The Secrets That We Keep
by MuffinLove03
Summary: Helga faces her own demons while helping a former classmate and his family. Meanwhile, Lila has gone missing and Arnold is the number one suspect. How will these storylines combine? A hybrid of the storylines of Gone Girl, Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, and Seven Pounds. AXH later on.
1. Chapter 1

**[A/N: Hello all! The inspiration fairy struck once again and here I am with a new fic XD I was inspired by a few different movies and decided to weave their storylines together. If you figure out what the movies are (which it wouldn't surprise me if you did) then that will be cool. The story is set when the characters are 25 and everything aside from that, I'll be revealing in time. Also, in this story, FTI happened but TJM did not, just FYI.**

**I don't own Hey Arnold]**

**Present Day  
**

Another late night in the office, the soft, warm glow of a floor lamp illuminating the otherwise darkened room. Rain outside pelted against the window with a contradicting gentle yet urgent rhythm. The bluish glow of her laptop illuminated her face and she sighed, taking a sip from her take-out coffee cup as she perused her email inbox.

The murmurs of coworkers outside her door and passing through the hallways were faint echoes as they bided their colleagues a good night. Lights off. Lights off.

"Go home, Pataki," Her supervisor said, gently knocking against the paneling of her doorframe. "I'm not payin' you overtime for all these late nights," He gave a good-natured grin, expecting some sort of response from the woman at the desk but pursed his lips when she shot him a look, never moving anything but her eyes.

Several notifications caught her eye and the sound of her boss's footsteps eventually fading away was easily forgotten.

**_GOLD._**

Another email. They didn't come frequently but it sparked her curiosity every time they did. Another tip. Another lead. This had been going on for the past year and this time it was a tidbit of information about a local CEO embezzling money from his corporation. It wasn't enough to nail him but it was something. She starred the email, saving it for later, and before she clicked out of the window, she pondered the peculiar nature of this informant. She had others, surely, but this one remained hidden – anonymous to even her. Their information had always checked out, though, so she trusted this person –to some extent, at least. As well as she could trust another person. Not that it really mattered anymore.

She rested an elbow on her desk, supporting the weight of her head with one hand as she finally opened the other email that had caught her attention. A different informant. This one she actually knew. Distantly, at least.

**_Hillwood Donor Wait List_**

She cocked her head to the side, slouching down in her chair the slightest bit as she skimmed through a list of names, diseases, prognoses, and numbers. She sipped her coffee. It was getting cold but she didn't really care. She downloaded the full document from the email and sent it to the printer on a shelf under her desk. She loaded a fresh stack of blank white computer paper into the paper tray and waited. The stack of papers was thick but she managed to get a staple through it and breezed through the document, freshly printed, one last time before slipping the sheets into her messenger bag and taking the final swig from her coffee cup.

She gathered her things and stood up, slipping into her coat and slipping the messenger bag over her head and one shoulder. The rain continued to pit-pat against her window incessantly and she groaned thinking about the walk to her car. Heels weren't proper in such weather and she hated the feeling of getting the bottom of her pants wet. She reached up inside the shade of the lamp and pushed the little button, enveloping the room in darkness sans the remaining light from the hall.

She grabbed an infrequently used umbrella from the canister by the door and tossed her empty cup into the wicker trash can next to it before beginning her trek home.

. . . . . . . .

**_Flashback - 7 Years ago - The Summer After Graduation:_**

_"I'll be there in ten, Pheebs," Helga said into her cell phone as she pulled out of her parking space and made her way through the streets of Hillwood to get on the main interstate. _

_A week ago, and on the night of their high school graduation, Gerald had proposed to Phoebe. They'd been dating for the past five years and everyone had seen it coming from a mile away. Phoebe was abuzz with excitement and had surprised Helga with her fervor for planning. However, on second thought, it didn't surprise her that her best friend would be ready to plan, organize, and contemplate every detail of her wedding almost immediately. Helga had agreed to meet Phoebe in the next town over at a small bridal boutique. It was only window-shopping but Phoebe wanted the opinion of her best friend – the maid of honor._

_Helga paused at a stoplight just before the on-ramp to the highway and took a sip of her coffee from her portable cup as her phone dinged. A text from Phoebe._

**_Do you want to get lunch while we're in Belleview?_**

**_Sure._**

_Helga quickly finished typing her response and hit send as the light turned green and she continued on her way._

_Time had seemed to pass by like a brief blip across her eyes. A snippet of a memory. High school was over. Arnold had been dating Lila for the past year – since Junior Prom – but Helga tried not to think about that too often. She hadn't had a class with him since they were sophomores and even though she felt pangs in her heart whenever she thought of him, somehow the distance made it a little bit easier to numb the pain. Or at least ignore it._

_Of course she hadn't gotten over him. Why would she? She hadn't met a single person who could compare and it wasn't for lack of trying. Between 8__th__ and 10__th__ grade, Helga had tried desperately to move on. She'd long since thrown away all of her shrine-related paraphernalia but by the middle of eighth grade she'd also locked away her poetry books and even her precious locket in the attic of her parents' house. Yes, her parents' house. She didn't give them the satisfaction of referring to that place as 'home'. Home is where you're wanted, where you're loved. She had simply resided in that house. Her heart belonged elsewhere._

_The radio was playing an upbeat song, perfectly meshing with the carefree spirit that wafts in the summer air fresh after graduation. All things considered, Helga was okay with where she was. She was going to Hillwood University in the fall to pursue a degree in English and she was currently in the market to replace her part-time job at the grocery store with something more substantial – something that could help her support herself and get out of her parents' house._

_Helga merged onto the highway. It was a Saturday and there were several others cars on the road, though not so many that she couldn't cruise at a comfortable speed. She turned the radio down when a particular song came on and pushed the memory away, deep down inside of her where it festered like an open wound. _

_She'd danced with Arnold to this song at the winter dance in the eighth grade. It had meant everything to her – the soft, dim lighting of the gymnasium, Arnold's hands at her waist, swaying back and forth to the gentle melody. She could remember his scent – some cologne that sent a rush to her brain and made her want to swoon – and the way the hair on her arms stood on end every time they moved together. It had been so simple. They weren't dating; they'd been sitting along together at a table, both of them bored as they watched their friends out on the floor, and he'd asked her to dance. It may not have been a big deal to him at the time but the butterflies in her stomach had fluttered and beat their wings against her insides as her head spun. _

_But that memory was tainted. It meant nothing. By the end of that night, Helga was alone. Arnold had danced with Lila a few times afterward - closer, longer; they smiled, they laughed, and Helga sulked, willing herself not to care. But she did, and when he kissed Lila's hand at the end of the night and escorted her out of the gymnasium, Helga had had enough. So many years spent pining and for what? She couldn't compare._

_Lila had changed somewhat over the years since. She had disappeared between ninth and eleventh grade and no one was sure why – she wouldn't talk about it. Her dad remained in Hillwood but no one knew where Lila had gone during that time. She reappeared in Hillwood for the beginning of their junior year of high school but she seemed different. She was still polite, still kind, and just as beautiful as she'd always been but something was different. There was a darkness in her eyes, like a scar of a memory that had shaken her. She was a little less bubbly and, to many classmates' delight, she dropped the mannerisms of her childhood – the "ever so's" and the "oh so's". _

_Helga's phone dinged from its place in the first cupholder of the center console. An abbreviated message from Phoebe popped up on the screen._

**_My mom thinks we should –_**

_Helga glanced down at the message before merging into another lane. She was four exits away from the one she needed to take. _

_Another ding._

**_I'm going to see if we can find –_**

_Helga huffed as she ended up behind a station wagon driving five below the speed limit. She honked her horn and passed them, shaking her head as she did so. With some space ahead of her, she reached for her coffee but misjudged the distance and knocked the cup over, splashing her phone._

_"Shit!" Helga exclaimed, quickly darting her eyes back and forth between the road and the center console. She tried to pick the cup up but the lid popped off and spilled more hot coffee on her hand. She jumped at the pain and nearly swerved into the next lane. She grabbed her cell phone and was trying to pull some napkins out of the center console when traffic ahead of her had slowed. With napkins finally in hand, the last thing Helga saw was someone's license plate before she slammed into the vehicle in front of her. The impact caused her car to flip and roll upside down as the sounds of metal crashing into metal – scraping, grinding, crunching, compressing – was a cacophony to her ears. The last thing she saw before blacking out was a flash of green as a Packard, unable to stop in time, slammed into the passenger side of her car._

. . . . . . . .

**Present Day**

Clad in a thick pair of grey sweatpants and an oversized pink T-shirt, Helga sat cross-legged on the couch in her apartment. She lived on the third floor in an old building in with hardwood floors that creaked and layers upon layers of white paint on the walls. The apartment was in a city called Columbia, a few towns away from Hillwood. She had a desk in the corner of the small living room that was overflowing with papers and folders and a half-empty bottle of wine sat on the wooden coffee table in front of her. The room was set in darkness aside from the faint starlight coming in from a large window and the smoldering embers of a lit cigarette nestled between her fingers. Helga breathed a cloud of smoke as she surveyed the list of names in front of her, her eyes focused and compensating for the lack of light.

She took a swig from the wine glass in her hand and sighed as she studied the names. There were several pages to go through so she knew she'd have to narrow it down. She was just reaching the bottom of the second page when her cell phone began to ring. Helga leaned forward, setting her glass down and grabbing her phone before pressing it to her ear. She didn't recognize the number.

"Hello?" She answered in a bored voice as she leaned back against the couch cushion, reading through the list once again as she puffed on her cigarette.

"Hi, um, Helga?" A deep voice asked hesitantly.

"Yeah," She responded in a slightly impatient tone. "Who's this?"

"Hey," The voice said, relaxing a little bit. "Uh, I'm not sure if you remember me but it's Rich,"

"Rich?" Helga asked, taking one final puff from her cigarette and leaning back toward the table to butt it out in the ashtray.

"Yeah," Rich said. "We went to school together," He paused. "Maybe you remember me as Peapod Kid?"

Helga's eyes widened in surprise. "Um, okay," She nodded, settling back into her couch again. "Yeah, I remember you. What do you want?" She thought for a second. "How'd you get my number? I barely talked to you,"

"Oh," Rich started. "Sorry. I was hoping to ask you something and Rhonda gave me your –"

"The hell?" Helga interrupted, grumbling to herself. "Why would she have my number?"

Rich's voice clearly conveyed how awkward this was becoming. "I'm not sure exactly. But you remember Rhonda, she has access to just about whatever she wants,"

"Mhm," Helga replied, unimpressed. "So what do you want?" She repeated.

"I'm sorry to bother you; I was just hoping to ask for your help," Rich explained and Helga raised an eyebrow as she listened. "Well, really it's for my grandfather. You're all over the newspapers; you really seem to have been doing well for yourself," Helga chuckled sarcastically to herself as she looked around at her tiny old apartment. "My grandfather's niece, I guess she would somehow be my cousin? – Anyway, she disappeared a long time ago and he was hoping –"

Helga sighed, picking her wine glass back up. "I'm not a detective, Peap-, uh, Rich," She corrected. "I'm sorry about your cousin but –"

"Please," Rich said. "I know it's a lot to ask and we barely know each other but… well, it's terribly important to my grandfather. I'm doubtful myself but he's been talking about her disappearance since I was a kid. If there's anything you can do –"

"I'll think about it," Helga cut him off.

"O-okay," Rich conceded. "Thanks, Helga,"

"Yup,"

After hanging up, Helga tossed her phone onto the couch cushion next to her and rested her hand back against the cushion, picking up her list and continuing to read.

. . . . . . . .

**_Flashback – 7 Years Ago - The Summer After Graduation  
_**

_"… the accident … interstate … "_

_"… wasn't your fault… "_

_"…Arnold?"_

_"… don't… hospital … afraid … die…"_

Phoebe? _Helga exclaimed in her head. _Gerald? _Indistinct voices echoed around her. Someone she didn't recognize._

_"… prognosis … brain damage … recovery … touch and go…"_

What happened? _Helga wondered. _What are they talking about Arnold for? Oh god, is he okay? I was driving… no, no, no this can't be right. Please, god, no.

_"Helga… right here… sorry… friend…" Phoebe's voice was punctuated with quiet and trying to focus made Helga feel dizzy. She tried to open her eyes but couldn't and when she attempted to move her arms or sit up and nothing happened, she could have screamed. But she couldn't even do that._

Phoebe, are you crying? _Helga willed herself to speak but nothing happened._

_"… wake up …"_

_. . . . . . . ._

**Present Day**

Helga was on page four of the five page document. She'd used a pen to circle several names on the list and was biting the tip of the pen. She reached for the pack of cigarettes on the coffee table but stopped. After a moment's hesitation, she set the document down and picked up the almost-empty pack before walking over to the kitchen and dropping it into the trashcan.

_No more of this. _She thought to herself. She couldn't do that anymore.

Helga sat back down on her couch and gazed out the window. The rain had stopped and the clouds had drifted, partially covering the waxing moon. The weight in Helga's chest felt like it could crush her at any moment. Her body felt heavy and she fought to keep her memories at bay for they plagued her night and day.

She'd finally gotten her life together three years ago when she started community college classes. After the accident she'd been in a coma for about eight months and the subsequent physical therapy had set her back in terms of career progression. She never attended Hillwood University but she got her Associate's at Belleview Community College and landed a position with the local newspaper shortly before graduation. She worked furiously, staving off the gaping hole that threatened to consume her if she didn't attend to her tightrope act. She couldn't look down. But in her dreams, she had no choice.

No one had known how long Helga was going to be unresponsive or if she'd ever pull through. Gerald and Phoebe had moved to the west coast to attend university and Helga spent several months after the coma learning how to talk, walk, and even go to the bathroom all over again. It had been a great surprise to her to find that her family had been visiting her during the coma but it was Olga who helped her through the re-learning process. It was humiliating and embarrassing not being able to care for herself and barely being able to communicate aside from crying and an assortment of sounds. She was adamant about not receiving visitors while she learned how to function again. Phoebe had tried to call shortly after Helga woke up but she didn't want her best friend to hear her talking like a toddler and had refused to speak with her.

That was in the past, though. She'd come through, yes, but for what? The burden she carried on her shoulders was enough to hold her in place as if her ankles were shackled to two boulders. She cut herself off from that life and moved to Columbia to start something new. However, much to her chagrin, her past haunted her.

_Maurice Loenstein, Cindy Loenstein, Jimmy Loenstein, Brianna Loenstein, Thomas Anderson, Maria Gutierrez, Ar—_

Helga took a sip of wine and zoned out into the darkness. It was going on midnight but she was wide awake. She sat still and the apartment became silent. She could hear the steady beat of her heart, she could feel the gentle flow of air in and out of her lungs. Everything working as it should with no respect for the past. No respect for those who couldn't. No respect for the dead.

She glanced down at the list in her lap and flipped to the final page. They had to be good people. They couldn't be liars of thieves or criminals or abusers or anything like that. She'd find out somehow.

An eye for an eye. For what she'd broken, she'd replace somehow, even if it was too late for the others – someone else may have a chance. And when it was all done, she'd be gone.

Her shame and regret ate away at her like acid, dissolving her into nothing. But there was hope. Hope for someone. Hope to have a purpose. To atone for what she'd done. She had to make things right, even if they'd never be right. She couldn't live with herself if she didn't. She couldn't live with herself regardless.

. . . . . . . .

**Present Day**

He'd gotten used to the quiet by now. They barely spoke to one another and they hadn't had sex in a little over a month. The last time before that, he couldn't recall. He watched her, sitting with both legs tucked under her as she leaned against the air of the sofa and wrote in her diary. She was always writing in that thing and he found himself constantly wondering what she was writing. What was she thinking about?

She'd changed a lot since they were kids. He always thought they had so much in common. She was sweet and nice and sociable just as he was. He got over her for a while after she rejected him countless times in elementary school but when she came back to Hillwood in the middle of high school, she'd begun to display a curious interest in him. She'd always been pretty but he was mesmerized when she showed up in his biology class in eleventh grade. Her long auburn hair tied into a braid that swooped around and rested on one shoulder, her chocolate brown eyes with flecks of gold that shimmered when the light hit them. He always wondered why she'd disappeared for those years after eighth grade but she never wanted to talk about it so he didn't push her. But she was a little less innocent than he remembered, a little more withdrawn, yet bold with some of her actions. Sometimes he caught her staring off into space and he wished he could step inside her brain and understand what changed. She was still sweet but somehow it didn't feel real. She was still beautiful but somehow it felt like she wore a mask that hid the inner machinations of her being. She was still friendly when they were out in public but when they were at home, they were strangers.

It hadn't always been that way, though. They'd gotten married two years after their high school graduation and had moved a couple states north to go to school. Arnold was interested in anthropology and pursued a minor in computer science while Lila studied business. He hadn't expected her to choose that route so it didn't surprise him when over the next year she changed her major three times. They were both working part-time jobs at the time to support the quaint little apartment they shared. For a while things were nice. They enjoyed each other and Arnold was happy.

Things started to change three years ago, however, when Arnold's grandpa got sick. His kidneys were failing and he didn't have much time left. This coincided with Lila losing her part-time job at the library and the two of them made the decision to move back to Hillwood and stay at the boarding house for the remainder of Grandpa's life. Arnold's grandma had died while he was a freshman in high school and over the years the boarders had slowed moved on, leaving Grandpa alone. They figured they'd pick up the pieces eventually: go back to school, start their careers, start a family. But it didn't work that way.

After Grandpa passed a few months later, Arnold hadn't been sure how they were going to proceed. He wanted to sell the boarding house but they needed jobs so they could get a new apartment. By sheer dumb luck, Arnold had run into Brainy at a local Chinese food carry-out. Many of the old neighborhood friends had moved away from Hillwood or had otherwise become engrossed in their own lives so it was pleasant to catch up with a childhood friend, albeit a distant one. Brainy, who went by Brian these days, had even offered to help Arnold get a job at the company he worked for doing tech support. It didn't pay much but at least it was full-time and that's what they needed right now. Over time, working alongside Brian, Arnold had learned quite a bit that added to his IT background.

But at home, things were steadily crumbling. Lila was distant and Arnold wasn't sure why. Most of the time she didn't seem to want much to do with him and he felt the wedge between them deepening every day. Sometimes she seemed distant, sometimes she seemed angry but he could never figure out why and she wouldn't tell him. Arnold tried to talk about what was going on but Lila would snap at him or ignore him. Sometimes she even left the house for a few days without a word as to where she was going or when she would be back. After the third time, Arnold stopped calling the cops.

He'd done some things he regretted and even if Lila wasn't aware, he still felt bad. His character was solid but he was no saint and no foreigner to mistakes. But that was no excuse.

Arnold studied his wife as she wrote fervently in her journal, eyebrows furrowed and her gaze set. Arnold pretended to be reading the newspaper as he periodically peered over its edge at his wife.

_What happened to you? _He wondered. _How did we get here?_

When she finally stopped writing, got up from the couch, and walked into the next room, Arnold sighed and turned his focus to the newspaper in front of him. A familiar name caught his eye and he smirked.

He often wondered how Helga was doing, more so now that he was back in Hillwood, surrounded by memories of childhood. Everything was so chaotic after the accident and she'd been in the hospital for almost a year. He'd visited her a couple times during that first summer but there was no way she could have had any idea he was there and when she finally woke up, he was afraid to see her. Gerald had told him that she wouldn't even take calls from Phoebe during her recovery which lasted another year and a half or so. He doubted she would be receptive to seeing him. Toward the end of high school she'd seemingly done everything in her power to avoid him and on top of that, he struggled with the guilt of his part in the accident.

He'd gotten a concussion, a broken wrist, and an assortment of cuts and bruises from the impact but it wasn't until the paramedics were cutting her out of the overturned blue sedan that he realized Helga had been involved. He'd wanted to visit her but when the doctors had finally checked him over, that was when he came to find out that Helga had gone into a coma.

Time seemed to have slipped right through his fingers and he often wondered if it was simply too late. Too late to contact Helga. Too late to save his marriage. He wondered every day where he was going to go from here but nothing ever seemed to change.

. . . . . . . .

**Present Day**

Helga had taken a break from her document to fix herself a cheese sandwich and get ready for sleep. As she lay in her bed, a small table lap casting light over her, she held the list in hand with her pen poised.

She quirked her head when she came to a familiar name.

Richard Bauer.

_Peapod…?_

**[A/N: And there we go! I wasn't planning on starting another story until I finished this semester but... you know... XD I do intend on working on my unfinished fics (Say Something, Olga's Diary, and Hearts of Glass). I have notes written for all of them - I just was really excited about this particular idea and needed to get it out lol. Anyway, please review and tell me what you think! Any thoughts, predictions or questions yet? This is gonna be a fun ride weaving this story together and TRUST ME, things WILL get intense and dramatic so don't say I didn't warn you ;) Take care and please review.]**


	2. Chapter 2

**[A/N: Hey guys! Sorry this chapter's a bit shorter than the first one. I expect chapter lengths to fluctuate in length. But I'm laying the groundwork for later drama so I hope this chapter tickles your fancy!]**

**Present Day**

The cafeteria was crowded this time of day. Families visiting their loved ones and getting a bite to eat, doctors coming off of a late shift, some getting ready to start one. Some people were joyous, others melancholy, while some had the faint stain of tears that had run down their cheeks.

Helga sat at a round table off to the edge of the room with a book in hand and a folder set in front of her. Her large purse sat at her feet, slightly under her chair, as she buried her nose in her book.

There was a family to her left – a man, woman, and child. The child was in a hospital gown and had not a single hair atop his head. Helga periodically peered over the top of her book to watch the family. They were talking and smiling but she was aware of their somber situation.

Helga's eyes shimmered with the threat of tears that never fell as she set her book aside and tentatively opened the folder in front of her. Her list was inside and behind it, an old newspaper article with a picture of several overturned and destroyed vehicles on a highway.

**SEVEN KILLED IN FATAL CRASH**

Helga already knew the names by heart as her finger grazed along the print. She quickly shut the folder and blinked her eyes furiously, taking a deep breath and shielding her face with her book. After several quiet, shuddering breaths, she looked over to the family again. The mom had shoulder-length dirty blonde hair that was pulled back in a half ponytail. She was wearing a simple blouse and well-kept straight leg jeans with a worn pair of tan boots. Her coat lay haphazardly behind her across the back of the chair. The dad was equally as casual with a dark blue sweater and khaki colored slacks. The little boy couldn't have been more than nine years old. She remembered that age.

. . . . . . . .

**_Flashback - 7 Years Ago - The Summer After Graduation  
_**

_"Helga, please stop reading that!" Olga exclaimed desperately as she snatched the newspaper away from her younger sister._

_Helga growled, her speech not completely having returned. "Give back!" She forced angrily, her face still crumpling with despair._

_"No," Olga whimpered. "Y-you need to stop beating yourself up," She paused, glancing at the article and sighing as she looked up to the ceiling. "Just focus on getting better, _please_, baby sister…"_

_Helga's scowl faltered and she could do nothing to hold back the tears that flooded her eyes and slid down her face. _

_"Oh," Olga immediately rushed over to Helga and gathered her in a hug as the fiery young girl fell weak in her sister's arms. Her shoulders shook with the force of her cries and without words, she could only wail and scream and cry. She was trapped in this broken body. Trapped with herself and that was the worst place to be right now._

. . . . . . . .

**Present Day**

Later that day Helga was in her kitchen making a cup of tea. She poured the hot water into her mug and watched and waited for it to steep. The sound of her phone ringing made her jump but she made no moves to answer it. Her boss knew she wasn't going to be in today—she'd already called him this morning and said so. He didn't really mind considering it was the day before Christmas vacation and she'd been putting in so many long hours – how could he complain?

When the voicemail finally picked up, Helga listened as she stirred sugar into her cup.

"Hi Helga," Olga's sweet voice filled the apartment. "I'm just calling to check on you, sweetie," She paused. "I really hope you'll come home for Christmas this year. We really miss you and I'd love for you to meet your niece. I sent you the picture she took with Santa a couple weeks ago – I hope you got it!" She paused again. "Anyway… talk soon… I love you,"

Helga walked over to the couch and sat down, careful not to spill the hot tea on herself. Her folder was lying open on the cushion next to her with the list on top. Several names were highlighted and/or crossed off but one name kept drawing her attention. She sipped her tea as she studied Rich's name.

After a moment's thought, she sat her cup down on the coffee table and grabbed her cell phone as she flipped back a couple pages in the list. She punched numbers into her phone and waited for someone to pick up.

"Hi, thank you for calling The Klondike Meat Company. My name is Phyllis. Who do I have the pleasure of speaking with today?" A woman answered in a flawless voice fit for customer service.

"Olga Pataki," Helga answered bitterly.

"Well, Ms. Pataki," The woman said kindly. "How can I be of service today?"

Helga stood up from the couch, pacing back and forth as she spoke heatedly. "Yes, I ordered a case of chicken and beef from your company and the beef is obviously old as shit and I see you didn't bother to put the chicken breasts I ordered in with the package. Do you think 'variety' means _'only thighs'_?"

"I'm very sorry to hear this, ma'am," Phyllis said patiently.

"_You're very sorry to hear this," _Helga mimicked in a snide tone. "Good for you!" She remarked as she turned back to the couch, reading from the list as the woman spoke.

"We're committed to quality assurance here at the Klondike Meat Company and I—"

Helga cut her off. "Do you have a family, Phyllis?"

The woman seemed startled by the question, "Uh, I'm not –"

"How would they feel about their mother or wife, or whoever you are, participating in an organization that sends people bullshit products, hmm?" Helga barely paused before she added, "Would this be their first time being disappointed in you?"

"Ma'am –"

"We've all done shit, right?" Helga said wildly. "What have _you _done, Phyllis? Is this it? Are you gonna get mad now? C'mon, say what you wanna say, Phyllis!"

"Th-thank you for calling the Klondike Meat Company. H-have a good day, Ms. Pataki," Phyllis said and hung up the phone.

Helga threw her phone into the couch cushions and immediately erupted into sobs, quickly wiping under her eyes so that she could see. Outside her window it had begun to snow, coating the city in a blanket of white as wind whipped the flakes around in the sky. Helga plopped down on the couch and looked at her list.

**Phyllis Carson**

**Cirrhosis **

**Liver Failure **

**History of Alcoholism **

**Ineligible for National Donor Registry**

. . . . . . . .

**Present Day**

"Man, it's cold," Arnold commented, shivering as he and Lila stepped inside their apartment.

"Yeah, it is," Lila responded plainly.

"Do you want me to take your—" Arnold said as he moved to help Lila with her coat but she was already slipping out of it. He watched as she hung the coat up on a hook by the front door and he did the same.

It was half past 1 am and they'd just returned home from Rhonda's New Year's Eve party. Another year had slipped right on by. The party had been nice, not that that was any surprise – Rhonda always threw the best events. Lila had even been social – Arnold barely recognized her. At home she was a stranger and it'd been that way since long before his mistake. He couldn't figure out what was going through her head on the occasions she'd be sitting across from him but completely in her own world. But at the party, she'd laughed, she'd danced. She socialized with everyone and it'd been a good time. There were quite a few points when it was almost as if he could see glimmers of the old Lila. He would've scarcely known he was spending time with his wife.

But the magic was over. Maybe it'd been the alcohol bringing her out of her shell. Maybe it was the fact that she was spending time with people other than him for a change.

They both got ready for bed separately, with barely a word between them other than 'pass the toothpaste'. They each crawled into bed and Lila immediately turned on her side, away from Arnold as he lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling. He rested one arm beneath his head as the other rested on his bare chest. He didn't make a move to cuddle with her or kiss goodnight. They were long past that and though she still confused and fascinated him, he was done trying. He was tired of being rejected and ignored. It was that sentiment that had gotten him into trouble in the first place – even though Lila had never known, it was something that ate at him. He was a good guy. Good guys didn't do stuff like that and the secret gnawed at him.

Something Rhonda had said that night stayed with him, making him nervous. But as the night had gone on and everything seemed to be fine, he'd relaxed. Still, he wondered if Rhonda somehow knew.

"You gotta keep an eye on the 'nice' guys," She'd remarked to Lila, nudging him as she did so.

It had to be a coincidence. There was no way Rhonda could know unless Lila knew and there was no way Lila could know. Or could she?

. . . . . . . .

**_Flashback – 4 Months Ago_**

_"I swear, these interns shouldn't be given network access anymore," The new girl, Katie, had said to Arnold as they sat at a couple of desks in a computer lab. Arnold's supervisor had hired the two of them out to the office above them to get rid of viruses from forty computers in one of the office's labs. _

_Arnold laughed as he worked, glancing over at the woman across from him. "Yeah, well, I don't think they'd be able to get much done without it,"_

_"You think they do in the first place?" Katie scoffed, laughing as her chocolate brown hair bobbed on her shoulders. _

_Arnold grinned and shrugged, focusing on the computer screen. _

_"26 down, 14 to go," Katie sighed as she pushed away from her desk, the wheels of her chair rolling along the linoleum floor._

_Arnold clicked a button and watched as a taskbar indicated how long he'd need to wait as the computer sifted through corrupted files. Katie walked over and half sat on the edge of his desk, supporting part of her weight with a foot on the floor. _

_"How much longer?" She asked quietly, looking back and forth between Arnold and the screen which she couldn't see well due to the angle at which she was sitting._

_"It says fifteen minutes," Arnold sighed. It was already nine pm and even though they were getting paid overtime, he would've liked to have gone home when everyone else did. "I guess I could get started on the next PC while I wait for this one," He said, starting to stand up._

_"Or…" Katie said suggestively, moving off of the table and taking a tentative step toward him. "Well…" She reached out and let her hand gently graze his forearm. She smirked when the hairs stood on end._

_Arnold froze, shocked by Katie's unexpected approach. She took that as an opportunity and closed the distance between them, grabbing the back of his head and pulling him closer, her lips crashing against his as her other hand roamed his back. _

_So many conflicting emotions surged inside of Arnold. He and Lila had barely spoken in a long time and every time he tried to do something with her – flirt with her, touch her, even kiss her – she'd pushed him away time and time again. They hadn't been intimate in several months and she never wanted to spend time with him. Yes, this was wrong – but it felt so good. For the first time in a long time he felt human again. He felt wanted._

_Arnold pulled his lips away, breathless, though Katie still had her arms wrapped around him. He willed himself to ignore the feeling of her breasts pressed up against his chest or the heat stirring in his stomach. "I-I, we shouldn't –" He said, cut off by soft kisses along his jawline. "This…" Trailing down his neck. "It's not…" She pecked his lips and his will faltered. He pulled her flush against him and returned her kisses with fervor. Their hands wandered for only a minute or so before she reached for his belt._

_"What if someone comes?" Arnold panted into her ear._

_"I'm counting on it," She whispered suggestively and Arnold picked her up and laid her across one of the desks._

_. . . . _

_Arnold left abruptly after that._

_"I'll go in in early tomorrow and finish the rest of the computers," He said to himself as he walked briskly through Hillwood's streets. "Shit, I can't believe I did that," He groaned, running his hands through his hair in frustration._

What is wrong with me? _He thought to himself as he walked. He'd left his car in the lot, opting for a walk home to clear his head. _I broke the most solemn vow I've ever made and with someone I've barely known for two months! Never again. Never again. _He groaned inwardly. _Fuck… what am I gonna do? How am I gonna explain myself? Can I explain myself? This isn't me. I don't DO things like this. I'm not a cheater! I'm not! Ughhh…

_Arnold continued to beat himself up on the way home. When he finally got back to the apartment, Lila was already asleep in their bed. Wallowing in his private shame, Arnold quietly crawled into bed, softly kissing Lila's exposed shoulder, and turned over to go to sleep._

. . . . . . . .

**Present Day**

Could Lila have found out and told Rhonda? Wouldn't someone say something to him if that was the case? Why hadn't he just been honest about it when it happened? He was scared and ashamed but he knew better. If any friend had come to him in the same situation, he would've told them to be honest with their significant other. Why couldn't he take his own advice? It'd always been this way. He was better at dealing with other people's problems than dealing with his own.

Arnold cast one last look at his sleeping wife and with a restless sigh, tried to fall asleep.

. . . . . . . .

**Present Day**

Arnold awoke on the morning of January 6th to find the space in the bed next to him empty. He stretched, yawning as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. As he began to wake up, he sighed into his pillow. It was his anniversary and he wasn't even sure how he felt about that anymore. That thought alone concerned him because it was a pesky little demon taunting him and making him re-think his marriage. Had this all been a mistake? He'd always thought he and Lila were perfect for each other.

He rolled out of bed and clambered off to their master bathroom to pee and brush his teeth. Once he finished in the bathroom, he came out and was immediately startled by Lila sitting on the couch, facing him and staring.

Arnold jumped and Lila smirked. "Sorry if I startled you," She said nonchalantly as Arnold trudged into the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee.

"Happy anniversary," He said half-heartedly, her view of him blocked by a wall, as he started the coffee maker.

"I think we should do something different this year," Lila said smoothly, appearing in the doorway of the kitchen and Arnold leaned against the counter, another yawn escaping him.

"Yeah?" He asked. While her talking to him for this long was unusual and at one point in time he may have been grateful, even hopeful, he couldn't muster the energy and it wasn't because he was tired.

"Yeah," Lila nodded and approached him, hooking her arm through his and looking up at him. "I know you haven't been happy," She said quietly.

This caught Arnold's attention and his eyes widened. "Lila, I—" He immediately turned to her, unintentionally loosening her arm from his. "I thought _you_—"

"It's okay, Arnold," She waved him off but met his gaze. "I think we need some time to think. We both have to admit things have been difficult for quite a while," She looked at him knowingly and he managed a defeated nod. "Why don't you go take a walk today and think about things? Think about what you want from us and we'll talk about it tonight, okay?"

Arnold nodded again and poured himself a cup of coffee, his brow furrowed in thought as Lila left the kitchen.

. . . . . . . .

It was a little past noon when Arnold was making his way back to the apartment he shared with Lila. He was bundled in a warm winter coat, a hat, scarf, and gloves as his boots trudged through the snow. He carefully avoided patches of ice on the sidewalk as a blustery winter wind picked up snow and threw it into his face.

He'd been walking around for the better part of two hours, thinking about his relationship with Lila and everything that had happened between them over the years. It was hard to believe that things had changed so much and he found himself teetering between nostalgia for the past and apathy toward the present.

He'd passed by Helga's old brownstone at one point and had stopped to think. Her parents still lived there though he seldom saw them. He wondered how Helga was doing and memories of talking to her out on her stoop flooded his mind. He remembered walking around with her on Thanksgiving when they were kids and they'd both been having a pretty crappy day. He wished he could talk to her about what was going on – she'd somehow always managed to help pick him up when he was down – but he knew it was best if he didn't directly approach her. He still wasn't sure how to talk to her. The last he'd heard was that she'd moved to a different city and she barely even talked to Phoebe anymore – that's what Gerald had told him last time they talked, anyway. If she wouldn't talk to Phoebe, he was doubtful that she'd give him the time of day if he tried.

Arnold soon realized he'd been standing across the street staring at Helga's old house for twenty minutes and resumed his walk back to the apartment. The longer he thought about everything, the more things started to become clear. Lila obviously knew that something was wrong. He knew something was wrong. The alarming thing was that as he was supposed to be walking around thinking about his relationship with Lila and what he wanted from it, he was instead contemplating his nostalgia and wondering about Helga.

Maybe this was a sign. Maybe he and Lila couldn't come back from whatever downward spiral they'd started years ago. Maybe they weren't supposed to be together in the first place? Arnold sighed at the thought. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do from here – this had been his world for so long and even if he wasn't happy in it, he wasn't sure what else to do. But he had to admit that it was over – whatever spark had existed between them had fizzled out and there was nothing left. He cared about Lila and didn't want to hurt her but they didn't even have a relationship anymore. And if neither of them was happy, what was the point in trying to make this work anymore?

Arnold trudged up the steps to his apartment with a heavy heart. He wasn't looking forward to this conversation but it had to happen. It should've happened a long time ago, especially after what had happened with Katie. If anything, that should've been a wake-up call.

"I'm back," Arnold called out as he stepped into the apartment. He hung his coat up on the hook and as soon as he turned around, his breath caught in his throat. The coffee table, with its decorative glass design was shattered and broken. Papers and books were strewn across the floor that had once sat neatly on the desk. "Lila?!" Arnold called out as he tossed his hat and gloves to the floor and hurried to the bedroom. The window leading to the fire escape was open with a large hole broken through and glass shards all over the floor beneath it. "What the hell?" Arnold uttered, his pulse quickening as he ran through the apartment looking for his wife to no avail.

Lila was gone.

**[A/N: There you have it! Where's Lila? What's going on with Helga? Stay tuned to find out and please review! :)]**


	3. Chapter 3

**[A/N: Hey all! Sorry for such a long delay. Ahhh, life is so crazy. I'm doing transcription for a grad assistantship and it's driving me nuts! Transcribing every mumble, stutter, and fragmented thought of an elementary school classroom video. That's kind of ruling my life right now so I haven't been able to write or do much of anything other than transcribe. But hopefully it'll be done soon and then I can relax a little bit. I got some free time and wanted to write a little bit so I pumped this out. It's not as long as I'd like it to be but I ran out of steam and figured this would be a good place to stop. I'm still setting a lot of things up but I hope you guys are enjoying what's happening so far and it's catching your interest. Trust me, there will be a LOT of drama happening in later chapters and it won't be for the faint of heart! **

**Also, it's snowing! Ahhhh! So much snow and we weren't expecting this much. We'll see how much we get before it finally stops but it's been coming down strong for several hours now! **

**Anyways, let me know what you guys think and I'll try and get more done as soon as I can! Please be patient and review to tell me what you think and where you think it's going!]**

**Present Day**

A fresh blanket of snow had coated the ground as Helga pulled into a parking space in front of the Columbia Nursing and Rehabilitation Facility. She parked and stepped out of the car, snow crunching beneath her boots. She frowned at the black BMW that was parked in a space marked "Director".

The inevitable smell of urine and feeding tubes filled Helga's nose as soon as she entered. It was a small building and the nurses' station was immediately inside, as soon as she passed through the breezeway. The snowflakes that had fallen onto Helga's coat and hat quickly melted as she waited for the nurse's attention.

"Can I help you?" The woman, a petite brunette in colorful scrubs, asked.

"Yes, hi," Helga said, unbuttoning her coat as she started to warm up. "I'm here to see Mr. Chambers,"

"Okay, one sec," She said sweetly and picked up the phone, punching a couple buttons. "Mr. Chambers, there's a Ms…" She looked up at Helga questioningly.

"Pataki," Helga supplied.

"Ms. Pataki, here at the nurses' station to see you… Okay, great," The nurse said and hung up, then looked back up at Helga. "He's waiting for you in his office," She stood up and started gesturing as she gave directions. "Head down this hallway and take your first left. His door in the last one on the right next to the fire extinguisher,"

"Thank you," Helga said simply and walked in the direction she was told. Some of the patients' doors were open. Elderly men and women reclined in their beds; some sleeping, some watching TV, some staring listlessly into space or out the window. Helga finally came to her destination and tapped on the door which was slightly open.

"Come in," a voice behind the door said and Helga entered.

Mr. Chambers was a balding man in his late forties. He had small eyes and wore a white collared shirt with a navy blue striped tie. "Ms. Pataki," He stood up to shake her hand and Helga politely obliged before sitting down in the chair across from his desk.

"Good morning, Mr. Chambers," Helga nodded, her face unreadable.

He turned to a table behind him with a coffeemaker. "Coffee?"

"No, thanks," Helga shook her head. "I'm fine. We should probably get down to business, don't you think?"

Mr. Chambers paused, caught somewhat off-guard by Helga's direct approach but he quickly recovered and smiled, though it never reached his eyes. "Of course," He nodded and turned back around.

"As you know, it's come to my attention that your facility has run into a bit of financial trouble," Helga began, leaning back against her seat and clasping her hands together calmly.

"Yes, how do you –"

"I'm not required to inform you of my sources as long as their facts check out," Helga cut him off and raised an eyebrow challengingly. "Anyway, I'm well-aware of the discrepancy between your unpaid back taxes and the continued running of this facility. I'm also aware of the fact that your company has taken out a large loan as of this past fall. Now look, I'm not with the feds so I'm not looking to sell you out here. But your situation _has _sparked my curiosity," She looked at him inquisitively.

Mr. Chambers nodded and leaned forward, resting his forearms on his desk. He took a breath as he began to speak, not looking directly at her at first. "I have to admit it's been a tough few years. We're managing the best way we can to ensure our residents and patients receive the best possible care,"

"I see," Helga said, pulling a small notepad out of her coat pocket and writing something in it. "Yet you're still accepting new patients? Do you really think that's responsible considering your struggle to manage finances as it is?"

Mr. Chambers sighed. "You make a valid point, Ms. Pataki, and that's why as of last month we have begun implementing new policies, including closing our doors to new patients for the time being," He paused and leaned back in his chair. "This story you're writing – what, may I ask, sparked your curiosity about my facility in particular?"

"Can anyone ever truly pinpoint why something interests them?" Helga responded rhetorically, not giving him the chance to reply. "Now, I'm perfectly capable of writing this piece and giving your facility a spotlight that could perhaps garner donations, sponsorships, etc. – highlighting the good work you do here and the need for community support. Would you be interested in something like that?"

Mr. Chambers grinned but quickly toned down his delight. "Ms. Pataki, that is a very kind offer and I ensure you, any support from the community, public or private, would be integral to the sustained functioning of this facility,"

Helga merely nodded and watched him. "I'll be in touch," She said, standing up. Mr. Chambers quickly mirrored her, seeming slightly confused. "O-okay. Is there anything more I can do to assist?" He offered, extending his hand to shake hers again.

"For the time being, no," Helga said, crossing over to the door as he followed behind. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Chambers,"

"Thank _you, _Ms. Pataki," Mr. Chambers nodded and started down the hallway, turning into one of the rooms as Helga stood by and wrote something in her notepad.

She clicked her pen closed and flipped through her previous notes. In a scribbled version of her handwriting she found the first one she'd written before she left the apartment that morning.

_Neil Chambers. Kidney. Lupus. Columbia Nursing &amp; Rehab._

Helga bit her lip in thought and began to walk back down the hall when her ears pricked up at the sound of Mr. Chambers' voice sounding a bit more frustrated than he'd been when they spoke. She poked her head around one of the doorframes and found him standing at the bedside of an elderly woman with long white hair. A nurse stood on the other side of her holding a plastic cup with pills in it.

"Helen, you need to –" He started, clearly aggravated, but he noticed Helga's presence out of the corner of his eye and quickly changed his tone. "Ms. Davis, you need to take your medicine,"

The woman pursed her lips tight and spoke not one word, turning her head and noticing Helga in the doorway. Her eyes were pale blue and sad. The nurse tried to offer the pills but Helen swatted a shaky hand at the young woman. Mr. Chambers' jaw clenched in irritation but he maintained an outward appearance of calm as he took the little cup from the nurse's hand. Helen, seemingly trying to speak, made sounds of disagreement, emphatically turning her face away from Mr. Chambers. The scene plucked at something within Helga. She locked eyes with this woman again and the pleading look on her face could have broken her stoic façade. To be trapped in your body, unable to speak and surrounded by people who didn't understand what was wrong – it hit home.

Mr. Chambers, apparently giving up for the time being, muttered something to the nurse and stood up to leave.

"Ms. Pataki," He nodded at her pleasantly as he passed through the doorway. "Please let me know if there's anything more I can do to assist you in your piece,"

"I will," Helga nodded as he continued down the hall and the nurse emerged from the room, her face in contorted in something resembling regret.

Helga furrowed her brow, watching as the two headed down the hall and turned in opposite directions before disappearing from sight. She looked back into the room at Helen who'd turned her head in the other direction. The small plastic cup with two small pills inside sat atop a tray on a cart next to her bed.

"May I come in, Ms. Davis?" Helga asked quietly, knowing the woman probably wouldn't be able to respond. She slowly approached the woman's bedside and sat down in a chair next to the bed. "Um… hi…" She said softly, her gaze cast down at the pattern of the white blanket on this woman's bed. "My name is Helga. I uh, I was hoping to just talk with you for a minute," She looked back in the direction of the door. "I was hoping you could tell me something… about Mr. Chambers," Helen turned her head around to face Helga and her brow was furrowed, her eyes still as pained as they had been before.

Helga took a breath and sighed. "I-I… I need to know if he's a good person," She said quietly and Helen watched her intently. "It's in my power to give that man a gift, in more ways than one, and… but, I… I don't want to do that if he doesn't deserve it. So, can you tell me – nod, or something? Is Mr. Chambers a good man?"

Helen's eyes flashed and Helga watched her inquisitively as the elderly woman became flustered, making sounds that Helga could only assume were whimpers. She turned in her bed to a nightstand on the opposite side of her bed where a pad of paper and a marker lay. Her movements were shaky but Helen managed to grab the pad and slowly but deliberately write for Helga. As she did so, Helga noticed her eyes beginning to water.

"_The… drug… he gives me… makes me dizzy_," Helga read as Helen wrote, nodding thoughtfully. "Okay,"

Helen looked up at her, her gaze fixed as she turned to write more.

"_It makes me… feel sick. I don't want it…" _Helga continued to read. _"I want a different one…" _

"That makes sense," Helga said. "Anything else?"

Helen paused, her lip quivering as she looked away. Helga watched as the woman began to write again, her movements even shakier than before. Helga's face fell in disappointment and disgust.

"He's _punishing _you?" She repeated the words back to the woman in an incredulous tone. "How?"

The woman's face contorted as her will to keep from crying diminished.

"How is he punishing you, Helen?" Helga urged her and the woman began to sob, trying to communicate though she was unintelligible. Helga sat patiently, controlling her own emotions as the elderly woman in front of her broke down, tears flooding the corners of her eyes and sliding back down to her pillow before she finally stopped shaking long enough to write some more.

Moments later Helga stormed out of the woman's room and down the hall where two nurses, an older woman with greying brown hair and a young blonde with a thick, sleek ponytail, were talking.

"Room 246," She stepped between them, not caring if she was being rude. "Get that woman a fucking bath,"

She didn't pause long enough to allow either of the women to argue. Mr. Chambers, who had been talking to someone farther up the hall, heard the outburst and rushed over. "What's going on here?"

"What the hell are you standing around for?" Helga turned back to the two women who were still staring at her, stunned. "Give Ms. Davis a bath _now, _or so help me you'll ALL be out of the job," The younger woman scurried off and into Helen's room with the older woman in tow.

"Ms. Pataki," Mr. Chambers began, trying to diffuse the situation.

"And you!" Helga turned to him, furious. "If I hear again that you are denying that woman the ability to BATHE, I _promise _I will run your sorry ass into the _ground_. _Damnit!" _She exclaimed, her voice almost a growl. "I _almost _believed you, you slimey son-of-a-bitch!" She shoved him and the back of his head hit the wall. "Ugh!" Helga took one last look down the hallway as she saw Ms. Davis being wheeled out of her room, a hopeful look of relief on her face as the young blonde pushed her wheelchair into the washroom.

Mr. Chambers watched in shock, rubbing the back of his head, as Helga stormed out of the building.

. . . . . . . .

**_Flashback – High School Graduation_**

_Helga stood in a long, wide hallway with the rest of her graduating class. She could hear Arnold and Lila talking a little ways behind her and she cursed the fact that P's and S's were so close to one another in the alphabet. She stepped out of line to check out the front of the line where Phoebe and Gerald were able to actually chat with one another because only one person's last name happened to come between Heyerdahl and Johanssen. _

_"This sure is excitin', don't ya think, Helga?" Stinky drawled from behind her and she cringed, then sighed._

_"I just can't wait to get out of this hellhole," She muttered in reply, crossing her arms and the huge sleeves of her green gown swished. "This stupid cap itches," She complained, regardless of whether Stinky was still paying attention to her or not. _

_Everyone around her was dressed in either a green or orange cap and gown – green for the girls, orange for the boys._

Count on Hillwood High to have the same ugly ass school colors as P.S. 118. _Helga thought to herself, scowling as she surveyed the room. Everyone was lined up and waiting for the ceremony to begin. _

_High school hadn't exactly been easy for Helga but it'd been bearable for what it was worth. She had mixed emotions about where she was going from here. Phoebe had been accepted to a school in Washington state on the complete opposite side of the country and even though Helga was also going to go to a great school here in Hillwood to study English, she couldn't help but feel apprehensive at the idea of separating from her best friend. _

_And what about Arnold? He was still with Lila but Helga couldn't help the pangs of despair and longing that tormented her. She chastised herself for not letting him go. She'd certainly tried but it was to no avail. Somehow he still managed to linger in her heart like the ghost of a love long passed. _

_As the line moved forward, Helga could see the crowds of family and friends out in the gymnasium waiting for the graduating class to enter. Olga wouldn't be there – she was currently teaching English at a primary school in Sweden, but her parents had said they'd be here. She'd even made it a point to remind Miriam before she left the house that morning AND text Bob before she was forced to turn her cell phone off. She hated to admit it but she actually did want them there. Through everything she'd done in school – writing competitions, playing girls lacrosse in her first year of high school and the awards banquets associated with that, her parents hadn't shown up. She hid how she felt with a thick blanket of anger but deep down, it really hurt. But this was her graduation. They had to understand how important this was._

_The line began to move faster and Helga was startled out of her thoughts as they filed into the gymnasium, the crowd roaring with cheers as families screamed for their children. _

_"I reckon this is it!" Stinky said excitedly._

_"Woohoo," Helga responded in monotone, but inside she was a bundle of nerves and excitement herself._

_. . . . . . . ._

_The venue was a jungle after the ceremony as everyone tried to reunite with their family members. Helga passed through throngs of people taking pictures, talking, and hugging. Some people were, like her, wandering around looking for someone. _

_She pulled her phone out of her pocket and pulled her cap off as she waited for it to turn on, running a hand through her long blonde hair to loosen it up. Once her phone was on, she dialed her mom's cell phone number. _

_After a few rings, Miriam finally picked up and in a lazy voice answered, "Hello?"_

_"Hey, Mom?" Helga said, her voice without its usual edge as she tried to look through the crowd. "Where are you guys?"_

_"Oh, what?" Miriam questioned, confused. "Oh! Oh, honey we tried to get to… to your thing but the roads were so _bad_,"_

_"What?" Helga stopped looking around, her brow furrowing._

_"Wha – oh, hold on, Helga," Miriam said and Big Bob picked up the phone._

_"Hey," He said._

_"Hey, where are you guys?" Helga repeated her question, though her heart was sinking as the conversation continued._

_"Traffic downtown was a bitch, girl," Bob said brusquely. "We couldn't get through,"_

That's why I told you guys to take the subway down here with me… _Helga thought to herself angrily. "It's fine, whatever," Helga brushed it off and she listened to sounds from the other line as Bob gave the phone back to Miriam._

_"Helga?" _

_"I'm here, Miriam," Helga said bitterly. "Look, I gotta go,"_

_"Okay honey," Miriam said in a voice that seemed totally oblivious to how important the situation was. "We'll see you at home,"_

_Helga hung up without saying anything more and muttered to herself, "Pfft, yeah if you even notice that I get there," She stuffed her phone back into her pocket and stomped out of the building. The sun was periodically peeking through clouds, causing the lighting outside to alternate between bright and overcast. Helga walked over to a set of concrete steps and plopped down, yanking her gown off and tossing it next to her with the cap on top. She was wearing a bright pink sundress and brown wedged sandals, a choice she now resented because as much as she wanted to slouch and brood, she had to be conscious of how she positioned her legs so as not to flash anyone. _

_"No fucking big deal," Helga muttered to herself, leaning her head against a metal railing and sighing. "It's _just _graduation," _I'm so done with this shit.

_"Hey Helga," A familiar voice behind her caught her off-guard and she turned around, her face brightening involuntarily._

_"Hey Ar—" She stopped when she noticed it wasn't just Arnold but also his grandparents, a few of the boarders, and Lila. "Hi," She muttered, scowling again and turning back around._

_"Are you alright, Helga?" Lila asked as the group descended the steps._

_"Oh yeah," Helga said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Can't you tell I'm simply overcome with joy!"_

_Arnold shot Lila a look and nodded his head toward Helga. Lila shrugged and walked away with his family as Arnold leaned against the railing. "What's wrong, Helga?" He asked gently._

_"Nothing's wrong, Football-head," Helga muttered. _

_Arnold bit his lip, eyeing her knowingly before looking around. "Your family's not here," He said quietly as he realized._

_"Your powers of observation astound me," Helga rolled her eyes. "Guess that's what a good ol' high school education'll getcha, huh?"_

_"Do you—"_

_"Can you just go?" Helga cut him off but he was surprised to find that her voice didn't have the same aggressiveness it usually possessed. Instead, what stood out was the look in her eyes. It was a look he recognized from some far corner of his mind of a little girl, broken-hearted and alone. _

_"Are you sure?" He asked hesitantly. A little ways down the sidewalk, Lila and his family were watching and waiting. Helga noticed and nodded. _

_"Yeah, go take your pictures or get lunch or whatever," She waved him away. "I'm fine,"_

_"Okay," Arnold said, still not quite wanting to leave her. "Let me know if you need anything," _

_Helga sighed and watched him walk away. "Unfortunately, you can't give me what I need, Football-head," She whispered._

_. . . . . . . ._

**Present Day**

"I just came home and found the place like this and she was gone," Arnold explained as two detectives, Mickey Rollins and Janet Sullivan, inspected the apartment. He followed them as they wandered around, checking everything out and asking questions. Detective Rollins had eyed the overturned coffee table in the living room strangely as Detective Sullivan surveyed a number of framed photographs sitting on another table nearby.

"Do you know of anyone who may have had a problem with you or your wife?" Detective Rollins asked as Detective Sullivan moved into the kitchen, noting a mark on the cabinet above the stove.

"No, I mean," Arnold said, shaking his head. "It doesn't make any sense,"

The detectives continued looking around, inspecting and taking notes on the appearance of the place before requesting that Arnold come down to the station and talk with them in more detail.

Arnold rode in the back of the police car and used his cell phone to call Lila's dad who only lived a few blocks away. He met them at the police station about ten minutes after they arrived and Detective Rollins went to talk with him while Detective Sullivan talked to Arnold in her office.

"So where were you this morning, before discovering your wife was missing?" She asked, leaning on her desk as her pen was poised to write.

Arnold tapped his fingers against the arms of his chair. "I was taking a walk for maybe a couple hours, hour and a half,"

"Anywhere in particular?"

"Not really," Arnold contemplated. "I like to walk around the city sometimes to clear my head,"

"Clear your head?"

"You know, just to figure things out," Arnold said, shrugging. "It was actually her suggestion,"

"Was anyone with you?"

"No," Arnold shook his head.

"I see," Detective Sullivan wrote this down. "Does Mrs. Shortman have any friends she's particularly close with?"

"Hmm…" Arnold furrowed his brow in thought. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Lila socializing outside of events they went to together like Rhonda's party. "Not really. We have a friend, Rhonda Lloyd, that we went to school with but we only see her once in a while,"

"You don't know if your wife talks to this person or anyone else regularly?" Detective Sullivan quirked an eyebrow.

"Um… not really," Arnold admitted.

"Would you say that she rubs people the wrong way?" Detective Sullivan leaned back in her seat slightly.

"No, she's uh… she's been a little more withdrawn lately but around people she's pretty sociable," Arnold said, nodding as he did so.

"Okay. Mr. Shortman, what is your wife's blood type?" The detective asked. "We're gonna need that information for forensics,"

"Umm…" Arnold pursed his lips. "AB, I think. Or A,"

"You don't know your wife's blood type?" Detective Sullivan raised an eyebrow at him. "Alright, c'mon," She said, shaking her head and standing up. "Let's go join Mr. Sawyer – maybe he can help fill in some of these gaps,"

"Alright," Arnold said, following the detective obediently.


	4. Chapter 4

**[A/N: Hey guys, this chapter's a little on the shorter side but I wanted to put it together as I was taking a break from working and decided to post. The chapter lengths will probably vary depending on how busy I get with school and work. I just started a new job so that's going to involve some rearranging in my schedule.**

**So, I'm wondering if you guys have figured out the movies that I am weaving together in this story. One person mentioned Gone Girl and that is indeed one of them but trust me, out of the different movies I'm incorporating, none of them will follow those storylines (especially the endings) exactly. **

**I do hope you guys are enjoying the fic so far though. I realize it's going a little slow - partly because I don't have time to write long chapters that move things along more and also partly because I have a lot of groundwork to set up. Please let me know what you think.**

**I don't own Hey Arnold, or the movies that have inspired this story.]**

**Present Day**

"Thank you for coming down, Mr. Sawyer," Detective Sullivan greeted as she sat down across from the middle-aged man. His face was tired but kind and his dark red beard was peppered with grey.

The man simply nodded and clasped his hands atop the table as Arnold sat down next to him and Detective Rollins stood behind Sullivan.

"Well, let's get started, shall we?" Sullivan said, pulling her notepad back out of her pocket. "Can you tell me Lila's blood type?"

"A positive," Mr. Sawyer replied easily.

Arnold pursed his lips. He knew it'd had an A in it.

"Mr. Sawyer, can you think of anyone who might have wanted to hurt your daughter?" Rollins asked cautiously as he pulled out a chair to sit down next to Sullivan.

Mr. Sawyer instinctively shook his head. "No, I don't…" The three of them watched as the older man's eyes widened and a flash of pain crossed them momentarily. "Oh god…" He whispered.

"What?" Sullivan asked. "What is it?"

"When…" Mr. Sawyer took a deep breath and Arnold watched in earnest. "When Lila was in middle school there was… there was…" He struggled to find the words as every eye was trained intently on him. "Lila was attacked,"

"_What?_" Arnold exclaimed.

"Attacked?" Sullivan repeated as she wrote. "By whom?"

"I-I don't know," Mr. Sawyer shook his head pathetically. "We never found out and Lila couldn't remember. B-But... they…" His voice trailed off as he began to choke up. Arnold stared, completely perplexed.

_Why didn't Lila ever tell me? _He wondered.

"We filed a police report," Mr. Sawyer said when he composed himself. "It happened at the end of the summer just before she was about to start high school,"

"Rollins, go run a search on Ms. Sawyer in the case reports for 2004, would ya?" Sullivan asked her partner who responded with a nod and ducked out of the room. "We're gonna look into that case and see if we can find any leads through that. In the meantime, is there anything else you can think of – anyone who's ever made a comment or done something that could have made her uncomfortable? Did she ever mention anyone having a problem with her?"

"No," Mr. Sawyer shook his head. "Everyone loves Lila,"

"Anyone ever love her _too much?" _Sullivan pressed, scribbling on her pad.

Arnold absent-mindedly shook his head as Mr. Sawyer quietly said, "No, I can't think of a soul,"

"Alright," Sullivan said as she clicked her pen closed. "We're gonna review 2004's case and see what we can find there. If you can think of anything that might help the case, here's my card –" Sullivan pulled a business card out of the front pocket of her button down shirt. "Gimme a call – phone number's there on the front,"

Arnold and Mr. Sawyer both stood up as Sullivan did the same, just as Rollins was returning to the room. "Thank you," Mr. Sawyer said, reaching out to shake Sullivan's hand. Arnold quietly mimicked the man's gesture and followed him out of the police station.

"You get the report?" Sullivan asked just as Rollins dropped a thick manila folder onto the table.

"Yeah," He said, leaning against the filing cabinet behind the table as Sullivan sat down to skim through the file. "Case is cold. The girl couldn't remember a thing and none of the leads went anywhere,"

"Strange…" Sullivan breathed as she breezed through some disturbing photographs.

Rollins paused, looking out the glass window of the office at Arnold and Mr. Sawyer's figures disappearing when they rounded a corner. "You know what's strange," He said. "Is a husband who doesn't seem to know shit about his own wife,"

"He could just be shaken up, Rollins," Sullivan said as she skimmed a witness testimony.

Rollins shrugged, unconvinced. "Maybe,"

. . . . . . . .

**_Flashback - 2004 - The Summer Before Ninth Grade  
_**

_Lila's dad could barely stand to look at his daughter lying in that hospital bed. Her normally shiny, bouncing red hair was now muted and tousled across her starched white pillow. Her eyes, deep shades of blue and purple, were swollen shut and her lip was crusted with dried blood. Bruises resembling fingerprints could be seen on her neck but he didn't dare to look. He was already having a hard time not completely falling apart._

God, I wish Maggie was still here. _He pined for his wife as he wiped tears from his eyes._

_"You're gonna be alright, baby girl," He said softly as he pushed a lock of hair away from Lila's face. The vitals monitor next to them steadily beeped to the rhythm of her heart._

_After a few minutes in silence, Lila's dad left the room for a few moments to speak with the nurses. _

_Lila heard the sound of her father's footsteps becoming fainter and fainter. She couldn't see anything as her eyes were closed and it hurt too much to try and speak but she was completely aware of everything that had been said in her presence. The memory of what had happened brought tears to her eyes but she whimpered harder at the pain her crying exacerbated. Scenes from hours earlier flashed across her mind and she willed them to disappear with every fiber of her being._

. . . . . . . .

**Present Day**

"Thanks for letting me crash here for a few days," Arnold said that evening as he sat at Brainy's dining room table.

Brainy lived in a different apartment complex a few blocks away and had offered to let Arnold stay with him until the police finished investigated his place. Brainy had gotten his asthma under control by the time they left P.S. 118 and, while he still came off a bit 'dorky', he was a lot more relatable now that everyone could have discussions with him without him wheezing throughout.

Since they'd begun working together, Arnold and Brainy had become pretty good friends. Gerald was living on the other side of the country with Phoebe and he tried to keep in touch but it wasn't easy. A lot of the old gang had gone in different directions in life, even if some of them still lived in Hillwood.

"I hope they can find her," Brainy said as he pulled the cap off of a bottle of beer and sat it in front of Arnold who was lazily working on his laptop.

Arnold sat back in his chair and took a sip from the bottle. "Yeah," His brow furrowed in thought. "It just doesn't make sense,"

"You know," Brainy said as he sat down perpendicular to Arnold. "I wouldn't be surprised if you could find Lila yourself," He nodded to the computer.

"Pfft," Arnold rolled his eyes and smirked. "I'm not _that _good,"

Brainy shrugged and reached toward the middle of the table to half-heartedly flip through a pile of mail. "How is that _project _of yours going, anyway?"

Arnold pursed his lips. "Nowhere right now," He tapped a finger against the glass bottle. "She doesn't seem to be working as much lately,"

"Really?" Brainy raised an eyebrow. "That's a surprise,"

"Yeah," Arnold bit his lip. "I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing,"

. . . . . . . .

**Present Day**

The apartment was dark when Helga opened the door. She pulled her key from the lock, balancing a few grocery bags on her arms as she made her way through the darkness and flipped a switch on the wall, illuminating the kitchen and sending some light into the living area.

It was already dark outside and she could see herself in the reflection on the glass. Helga sat her bags down on the kitchen counter and walked over to pull the blinds closed.

She decided to lounge on the couch for a little bit before putting her groceries away. She hadn't gotten much but that didn't matter. Her body instantly relaxed as she melted into the cushions and let out a deep sigh. She turned on her side and grabbed her list, still resting in the same place she'd left it earlier that day when she left. Helga groped around on the table for a pen and bit the tip as she read through the document.

_Neil Chambers. _She crossed the name off the list and scowled. _That was a bust._

She skimmed through the list of names, focusing her attention on the ones she'd highlighted. Peapod's name was highlighted in pink with a question mark next to the name. She hadn't quite decided what she was going to do about that one. It certainly made sense, considering his condition, but something like a heart wasn't something she could do right away. And of course, she couldn't deny that she was intrigued by what she knew of his grandfather's story but still, she wasn't sure if she wanted to commit to something that could potentially take a while. She wasn't planning on being around that long.

Helga's eyes fell on the name of Phyllis Carson and she reached into the pocket of her coat that she was still wearing to retrieve her cell phone.

A notification alerted her to the fact that she had three voicemails she hadn't listened to yet but she ignored them and went to the dialpad, pressing *67 first to conceal her phone number.

"Hello?" Phyllis answered the phone and Helga remained silent. "Hello?... Anybody there? 'Cause I can't hear you… Alright well, if you can hear me, I'm hangin' up now. Bye,"

Helga waited until the call disconnected before she pulled the phone away from her ear and sighed, biting her lip in thought as she reclined her head against one of the couch pillows.

. . . . . . . .

**_Flashback – The Winter Before High School Graduation_**

_Hillwood was already covered in a blanket of snow by the time the movie let out. The city was strangely quiet and Lila rested her head against Arnold's shoulder as they walked down the powdery sidewalk. Large snowflakes fell gracefully and the sky above was a warm reddish-orange with hints of pink. _

_Lila unlinked herself from Arnold's arm when they approached a crosswalk and in the time it took for her to press the button that would allow them to cross, Arnold had sneakily packed a ball of snow into his hands and hid it with one hand behind his back._

_There weren't many cars on the road by now – many had already made the trek home or had no intention of going out in this weather. The city hadn't been expecting this sudden storm and so the snowplows and salt trucks were delayed in getting out and taking care of the roads. _

_Lila and Arnold crossed the street with Arnold falling behind the slightest bit. He stopped and hid behind a brick building at the corner as Lila kept walking, completely unaware. He peered around, struggling to stifle his laughter and chucked the snowball at her back but missed. Lila, however, had heard the sound and turning around, realized Arnold was no longer with her._

_"Arnold?" She called out, looking around, but he'd ducked back behind the building. Lila began to retrace her steps and when she came to the corner where Arnold was hiding, he jumped out and grabbed her sides, tickling her._

_Her reaction, however, stunned him. Lila screamed out and her pupils dilated with fear. She reflexively swatted at him and stumbled back, slipping in the snow and falling onto her butt. Her breaths came sharply and her eyes were brimming with tears as she scrambled to get away, realizing after a couple moments that it was only Arnold._

_"Whoa-whoa-whoa!" He exclaimed in concern and cautiously knelt down beside her. "Are you okay? I'm sorry! It's me," He said, extending his hand that she tentatively took after a moment. "I didn't think I'd scare you that bad,"_

_"I-It's fine," Lila choked out, still coming down from her adrenaline surge, as she wiped her eyes. _

_"Are you sure you're okay?" Arnold looked at her, his eyebrows furrowed with worry._

_"Yeah," She nodded, doing her best to be convincing. "I just… wasn't expecting that. That's all,"_

_Arnold wasn't completely buying it but he decided against pushing her. "Okay. If you say so,"_

. . . . . . . .

**Present Day**

The following day, Sullivan, Rollins and a forensics team were investigating Arnold and Lila's apartment in depth. People were dusting for fingerprints, using luminol to look for blood spills, and searching through every cabinet, drawer, and closet for clues.

In their preliminary search, Sullivan had spotted what appeared to be a small amount of blood spatter in the kitchen so the forensics specialists were doing the luminol treatment in there first.

The sound of someone frantically knocking on the door distracted Sullivan from a conversation she'd been having with Rollins about the blood spatter. She put a finger up, indicating for him to hold on, and she walked over to the door to look through the peephole.

A very pregnant woman in a long green and yellow maxi dress was standing just outside the door. She had dark brown hair that was tied up in a messy bun and she looked impatient.

Sullivan opened the door but positioned herself in such a way that the woman would clearly get the message that she could not come in. "Do you need something, ma'am?"

"Yes, I—" She tried to peer around Sullivan into the apartment. "I'm Jenny Gilbert; I'm Lila's best friend. What's happened here? I've been seein' cops goin' in and outta this place,"

"Excuse me, you said you're Mrs. Shortman's best friend?" Sullivan asked.

"Yes, of course I am," She replied curtly. "Now what's going on? Did something happen to her? Where's that football-headed asshole now?"

"You mean Mr. Shortman?" Sullivan clarified.

"Do you know anyone _else _with a football-shaped head?" Jenny deadpanned, a hand on her hip.

"Point taken," Sullivan muttered under her breath before calling over her shoulder. "Hey Rollins! Come over here and take this woman's statement, would you please?" Once he appeared at the door beside her she added, "I'm gonna go check with Bernie about the luminol results,"

Rollins nodded and escorted Jenny out of the doorway and down the hall as Sullivan closed the door.

_Best friend, huh?_

. . . . . . . .

By 12:30, Arnold was still in his cubicle typing furiously into his laptop as his desktop computer updated. Brainy approached with a Tupperware container of leftovers he'd just heated up in the break room's microwave.

"Aren't you gonna eat?" He asked.

"In a minute," Arnold uttered absently, the back of his laptop turned toward Brainy.

"You're gonna miss lunch, Arnold," Brainy said as he leaned against the edge of the cubicle wall and stuck his fork into the chicken breast in his container.

"I'm almost done," Arnold said, his eyebrow raised as he read something on the screen. "Hey, check this out,"

"What?" Brainy asked as he sat his food down on Arnold's desk and walked behind him to look.

"I found this file," Arnold said, resting his fist against his chin as he pondered the screen.

"If the boss finds out you're doing this on the company's network, he's gonna –"

"I know, I know," Arnold cut him off. "I didn't save the wifi password for your network at home and couldn't check this morning before work. But look," He pointed to the screen. "What is she doing?"

Brainy's face contorted in puzzlement. "Your guess is as good as mine. She's always been something of a mystery…"


	5. Chapter 5

**[A/N: Woohoo! I'm on a roll! Thank goodness for snow days. I could have definitely made this chapter long but I think I'm gonna cut it off here and start working on the next one instead. :) I hope you guys like it and please let me know what you think! It's really encouraging and I hope you aren't too bored with all of the build-up and exposition and what not. I promise, the metaphorical fecal matter WILL hit the fan VERY SOON.]**

**Present Day**

"Detective Sullivan," One of the forensics specialists, Bernie, tapped Sullivan on the shoulder just as she was closing the Shortmans' apartment door. "I think you're gonna wanna check this out,"

Eyebrows raised in curiosity, Sullivan followed the man over to the kitchen.

Bernie crouched down to the floor and picked up a spray bottle that was sitting off to the side. "After you told me about the potential blood spatter you found on the cabinet, I decided to test the kitchen first and –"

"That baby lit up like a Christmas tree," Sullivan breathed solemnly as he sprayed the luminol solution over an area of the kitchen floor and a large portion of it lit up. "Somebody lost a lotta blood in here,"

"We're gonna run forensics on the blood spatter you found back at the lab," The man said as he stood back up to face Sullivan. "We'll see if we have a match but I think we probably will,"

"That's great," Sullivan nodded. "Thanks, Bernie,"

. . . . . . . .

"So, how did you say you know Mrs. Shortman?" Detective Rollins asked Jenny once Sullivan had closed the apartment door.

Jenny leaned against the staircase railing. "We're neighbors. We hang out all the time when Arnold's at work," Jenny rolled her eyes when she spoke his name. "He's such an ass; I don't know why Lila put up with him,"

"What do you mean by that?" Rollins inquired.

Jenny scoffed. "He runs around on her. She's havin' his goddamn baby and he's out screwin' who knows what. Lila's a sweetheart and –"

"Excuse me," Detective Rollins interrupted. "You're saying Mrs. Shortman was pregnant?"

"_Was?" _Jenny's eyes widened. "What the hell do you mean, _was?_"

"Please just answer the –"

"If that son of a bitch killed her—"

"Please, Mrs. Gilbert," Rollins cut her off again. "Lila Shortman informed you that she was pregnant?"

Jenny huffed. "Well, yeah. Six weeks last Tuesday,"

Rollins nodded and pulled a notepad from his backpocket, jotting this information down. "You don't seem to be very fond of Mr. Shortman,"

"What was your first _clue?_" Jenny scoffed, rubbing her large belly and looking around. "I need to sit," Rollins nodded as she carefully lowered herself down onto one of the steps. "I told you. He's an ass and doesn't treat her right. She told me so herself. He works all the time, screwin' some tramp at the office. I barely ever see him but Lila…" Jenny paused. "I-I don't know. All I know is that she doesn't seem comfortable bein' here,"

"Do you know if there has been any violence in their relationship?" Rollins asked.

"Not that I've heard, at least," Jenny shrugged. "But I still don't like him,"

Rollins nodded. "Okay, thank you, Mrs. Gilbert. We'll contact you if we need any more information,"

. . . . . . . .

**Present Day**

The hospital gown was itchy but Helga wasn't ready to change yet. She was still recuperating in one of the beds when a familiar face walked in.

"Ms… Ms. Pataki?" The woman with shoulder-length dirty blonde hair cautiously approached Helga's bedside. "I-I'm Angie Steinberg… Ryan's mother,"

Helga merely nodded and Angie pursed her lips together, surveying the surroundings. Helga was lying in a bed with the white hospital blanket pulled up to the middle of her abdomen. The room was open sans a curtain separating her from the bed on the other side.

"I…" Tears brimmed in Angie's eyes and she brought both hands up to her face to wipe them away. "I can't begin to thank you,"

Helga clenched her jaw and her gaze remained fixed on her hands in her lap before she forced a small smile and looked up at the woman next to her. "You don't have to thank me,"

"If not for you, Ryan might…" Angie's breath caught in her throat and she smiled in an effort to fight away the emotions surging through her. "He's been fighting this… the leukemia, for a while now… we didn't think we were going to find a donor. His father and I aren't a match and he doesn't have any siblings. The chance of his body accepting our marrow was slim,"

Helga nodded. "I'm glad that I could help," She smiled but it didn't reach her eyes. Instead her eyes were clouded with pain, both physical and emotional.

"But you don't even _know _us," Angie said softly. "I just… I don't understand. I'm so grateful but… why us?"

Helga's brow furrowed in thought for a moment and she sighed, shrugging. "You seemed like good people… and it felt like the right thing to do,"

. . . . . . . .

**Lila's Diary - 2012**

_Dear Diary,_

_Arnold's been ever so supportive since I lost my job a few months ago. I'm certain I didn't see it coming and I wasn't quite sure how he would respond – he didn't seem particularly pleased when I told him I changed my major… again…_

_We're moving back to Hillwood in a couple of weeks. Arnold's grandfather is ill and I'm afraid he doesn't have much time left so we're going back to care for him until he passes and, I guess, try to get back on our feet. We're both going to have to put our education on hold for the time being and start all over again back in Hillwood. I truly would not have minded moving back considering the circumstances but still… it would have been nice if he'd asked before making the arrangements._

. . . . . . . .

**Present Day**

Brainy was lounging in a recliner in the living room with the TV on as he picked through the TV dinner he'd made. It was a Monday evening and Arnold was in the bathroom taking a shower. Brainy flipped through the channels, doing a double-take when he saw a familiar face on the screen.

"Yes, it is quite devastating news," Rhonda flashed a forlorn look at the camera before looking back at the bleach-blonde host who was interviewing her. "But we still believe Lila is out there somewhere and that's why I've offered to host this event,"

"Ms. Lloyd, please tell us more about it," The blonde requested. "For any viewers just tuning in,"

"Of course," Rhonda flipped her hair. "Wednesday and Thursday night we will be having a volunteer search event to help find Lila Shortman,"

Brainy heard the bathroom door open and Arnold stepped out in a pair of grey sweatpants and an old green T-shirt. His golden blonde hair looked darker from the water as it lay tousled and partially slicked to his head. He used a towel to try and dry his hair out.

"Arnold," Brainy called, not tearing his eyes away from the TV. "You need to see this,"

"What?" Arnold walked over, his hair more dry and sticking up all over the place as he turned to face the TV. "_Huh?_"

"Did she tell you she was doing this?" Brainy asked.

Arnold shook his head, one eyebrow quirked. "No…" He walked over to the table where he'd left his wallet and phone and began to sift through his contacts for Rhonda's number. "This isn't live, right?"

"No, this is a recap of the news from earlier tonight,"

Arnold nodded as the phone rang.

"Arnold, darling," Rhonda's smooth voice answered.

"Rhonda, what's this about a volunteer event? Why didn't you tell me?" Arnold asked, plopping down in one of the dining room chairs.

"Oh," Rhonda exclaimed but Arnold doubted she was as surprised as she made herself sound. "Dear, I'm so sorry but I must have forgotten. I was so busy with planning, you know,"

Arnold sighed, "Okay, so what's the plan?"

"Well," Rhonda said and Arnold could imagine her eyes gleaming as they always did when she was planning something. "It will be held at the Hillwood Community Center and we'll have a tip line with volunteers fielding phone calls, making posters, that sort of thing, you know. I've personally arranged for the event to be catered, naturally,"

"Right," Arnold said. "Well, thanks Rhonda. That's really nice of you to –"

"Don't mention it, Arnold," Rhonda cut him off. "But make sure you're there. Wouldn't want to give the wrong impression, right?"

"Uh…"

"After all, it is the _least _you can do. Anyway, ta-ta for now, Arnold. I must get going. I'll see you Wednesday. Chao, doll," And with that, Rhonda hung up.

"So?" Brainy asked, turning around in his chair to look at Arnold.

"She's trying to help find Lila," Arnold shrugged. _What does she mean 'it's the least I can do'?_

"Hmm," Brainy hummed but turned back around.

Arnold was thinking about getting up to make something to eat when his phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Arnold, what the hell, man?" Gerald's voice exclaimed from the receiver. "I had to hear about your freakin' wife disappearing _on the news?_"

"You guys get our channel out there?" Arnold asked, dumbfounded and missing the point.

"Rhonda knows how to get a message across," Gerald said simply, then returned to his former state. "But dude, what the hell? Why didn't you call me?! I'm your best friend,"

"I know, I know," Arnold said, leaning back in the chair and pushing a fluffed up blonde lock out of his face. "Everything's just been really crazy. I don't really have my head on straight,"

"No kidding," Gerald exclaimed but was starting to calm down. "Are you okay, Arnold?"

"Yeah, I'm okay," Arnold shrugged and Gerald paused.

"Why don't you sound more worked up than I thought you would?" Gerald inquired. "What's going on?"

"Nothing's going on," Arnold sighed. "How's Phoebe?"

"She's alright," Gerald said. "I think she's ready to have this baby already," He laughed.

Arnold smiled, "I'm really happy for you guys,"

"Thanks, man," Gerald replied gratefully. "She's all kinds of emotional today, though,"

"That comes with the territory, doesn't it?" Arnold stood up and moved to the kitchen area to make himself a sandwich.

"Yeah," Gerald sighed. "But she's got a good reason, I guess. Her latest thing is Helga,"

"Helga?" Arnold grabbed a knife and smeared some peanut butter across a slice of bread.

"Yeah," Gerald replied. "It's been years since they've seen each other and I can't remember the last time she actually answered the phone when Phoebe tried to call,"

"Oh," Arnold said, his face contemplative as he fastened the lid back on a jar of strawberry preserves and put his two slices together. "Is she um, doing alright?"

"I guess," Gerald said. "Ever since that accident, Helga just pushed everybody away. And I mean, more than she used to, ya know?"

"Yeah…"

"Phoebe said she talked to her sister and apparently Olga thought she was embarrassed or something," Gerald explained. "'Cause she couldn't talk right for a while after the coma,"

"It makes sense," Arnold sighed, taking a bite of his sandwich.

"It messed Phoebe up, though," Gerald sighed. "I mean, you know they've been friends as long as we have. I was never close to Pataki or anything but she means a lot to Phoebe and even now, I don't think she's talked to Phoebe for more than ten minutes over the past few years _combined_,"

Arnold sighed and leaned back against the counter. "She hasn't said anything to me," _Technically not a lie._

"Well, yeah," Gerald chuckled softly. "I didn't think she would. I was just sayin'," He paused and Arnold took another bite. "Anyway, I'll let you go. Keep me updated on this Lila thing, okay? And call me if you need anything,"

"Will do," Arnold nodded even though Gerald couldn't see him. "Thanks, Gerald,"

"You got it, buddy,"

. . . . . . . .

Later that night, Helga had fixed herself a bubble bath and was relaxing in the soapy heat, the subtle scent of vanilla and lavender relaxing her senses. She had her blonde hair tied up in a messy bun and her knees stuck out of the water since she couldn't fit the length of her body in the tub. She marveled at the way the heat had turned the submerged parts of her legs a reddish-pink while her exposed knees and ends of her thighs were their usual creamy pale hue.

She'd actually gone to work that day in order to keep up appearances. She didn't want to draw any more attention to herself than was absolutely necessary.

After a few moments of peaceful quiet, Helga rolled over in the tub and dried her hands off with the towel she'd set beside the tub before tapping her phone on. She went into her voicemail box and put the speaker on as she listened to her messages.

_Hi baby sister! _Olga's voice echoed in the bathroom and Helga half-regretted her decision to listen. _We missed you so much at Christmas and the New Year's Eve party. Give me a call when you get this. I know you're so busy but I hope we can spend some time together soon. Miss you! Love, love, more love… _Helga could hear someone else's voice in the background before Olga spoke again. _Call me soon, Helga._

Helga looked at the date of the message – it was from almost a week ago. She sighed as she deleted the message and went to the only other message waiting for her. She'd only gotten it yesterday but she was still dreading listening to it as she hadn't made a decision yet.

_Hey Helga. _Peapod's deep voice was a stark contrast to the sugary syrup of Olga's. _I was just calling to check in and see if you'd thought about what we talked about before. I don't wanna bother you but please let me know soon if you'd be willing to help. My grandfather has been asking about you and I just want to know if you'll do it. He said he'd be more than willing to compensate you for your time. I guess just give me a call back when you get the chance. Bye._

Helga bit her lip and crossed her arms over the edge of the tub, resting her chin against them as she stared at her phone. She inhaled deeply, narrowing her eyes at the phone as she contemplated one last time before she tapped the call back button on her phone and waited.

"Hello?"

"Peap—I-I mean, Rich?" Helga inquired.

"Yeah," He responded. "Helga?"

"The one and only," She murmured, playing with a piece of hair that'd fallen from her bun.

"Hey," He said easily. "What's up?"

"I'll do it," She said simply.

"You'll –"

"I'll help you find your cousin or niece or whoever," She cut him off. "I can't guarantee I'll be any actual _help_ but if you want me so bad, then fine,"

"O-Oh," Rich said, sounding somewhat taken aback. "That's – thank you, Helga. I'm sure my grandfather will be very happy to hear this,"

"Yeah," Helga replied in a seemingly bored tone. "So what's the plan?"

"How soon can you leave town?" Rich asked.

"Umm…" Helga tapped her fingers against the edge of the tub as she thought. "Let me give my boss some notice and I can probably get off on Wednesday,"

"That sounds great," Rich said, pleased. "My grandfather – his name is William, just so you know – he lives a couple states away. It's a four hour drive but only about an hour if we fly,"

Helga shrugged and realized the warmth from her bath was starting to fade as she felt a cool draft waft over her shoulders. "Sure, whatever,"

"Okay, great," Rich replied, enthused. "Thank you so much, Helga. I'll let him know we'll be coming in a couple of days,"

"Okay," Helga waited for Rich to hang up before she let out a long, deep breath and sank back down into the tub.

. . . . . . . .

**_Flashback – 2012_**

_"Are you sure we couldn't drive you to Columbia, Helga?" Olga asked, whimpering, as they stood outside the bus station. "It's only a two hour drive,"_

Which is an hour and fifty-five minutes too long. _Helga thought to herself. "No, I'll be fine on my own,"_

_Olga, Bob and Miriam had brought Helga to the bus station to see her off. She was moving to Columbia to go to school and Olga was the most emotional of them all – no surprise there. However, she'd cared for Helga to great extents while Helga was recovering from the accident so in this case, her emotional upheaval made sense. Bob and Miriam didn't seem to be as fazed but Helga couldn't complain too much 'cause at least they were _there.

_"I could come with you and help you get settled," Olga offered, sniffling, as she pulled a suitcase out of the trunk of their dad's blue sedan. _

_"No, Olga," Helga said simply. "I'll be fine. I need to do this on my own,"_

_"You're sure?" Olga met her sister's gaze and for a moment, Helga felt a pang in her chest. As much as she hated to admit it, Olga had been a rock for her during the past few years with the coma and recovery and physical therapy… She still annoyed her sometimes but she really did love her sister._

_"I'm sure," Helga nodded. _

_Her lip quivering, Olga threw her arms around her younger sister who was now pretty much her height. "I'll miss you, baby sister,"_

_Helga awkwardly patted Olga on the back, biting back her own emotions. "You'll be going home in a couple weeks anyway,"_

_"I'll still miss you," Olga gently gripped her sister's shoulders, pulling away to look her in the face. "I'm so proud of you. You're very strong, Helga,"_

_That almost did it. Helga bit the inside of her lip to distract herself from wanting to cry. She couldn't even put words together in her head to explain how much she disagreed with Olga's statement. She was far from strong and she just wanted to get away. She wanted to forget everything._

_Olga sighed and let go of Helga. "Call us when you get there,"_

_Helga looked from Olga to each of her parents who nodded solemnly. After a brief moment of thought, Helga gave in and wrapped her arms around Olga in a tight, brief hug. "I will,"_

. . . . . . . .

**Present Day**

The following evening, Detective Sullivan and Detective Rollins showed up at Brainy's apartment.

Arnold opened the door. "Oh, hi detectives," He said, stepping aside to let them in. "Have you found anything?" He asked as he closed the door behind them.

The two detectives, hands in their pockets as they surveyed the living room, turned to him.

"A few things," Sullivan started cautiously. "But we're not quite sure where it's leading yet. We did have a couple questions for you though, if you have the time,"

"Oh, um," Arnold started. "Sure," He led them over to the dining room table and they all sat down.

"Mr. Shortman, do you recognize the name Jenny Gilbert?" Rollins began.

Arnold thought for a minute, "I don't think – wait… I think her and her husband live in the apartment across the hall from us," He paused. "What does she have to do with anything?"

"Mrs. Gilbert claims to be your wife's best friend," Sullivan supplied.

"Best friend?" Arnold quirked an eyebrow. "That doesn't make sense. I mean, we've said hi to them in passing but _best friend?_ No, that doesn't sound right,"

Sullivan retrieved a folded up envelope from her coat pocket and pulled out several photos of Jenny and Lila together, turning them to face Arnold.

"Where did you get these?" Arnold inquired as he studied the photos in disbelief.

"From Mrs. Gilbert," Sullivan replied simply. "They look like friends to me, don't you think?"

Arnold's brow furrowed as he inspected the photos. "This is news to me. I had no idea,"

The detectives nodded and Sullivan slid the photos back into their envelope. "Mr. Shortman, can you tell us – Mrs. Gilbert claims that your wife confided to her that she was approximately 6 weeks pregnant. Is this true?"

"_What?_" Arnold felt like a rock had slid into his stomach. "N-no, that can't be. That – no!" He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes wide with shock.

"You seem pretty upset at the idea of your wife being pregnant," Rollins commented, eyeing Arnold with veiled disdain.

"No, it's just – I-I mean, we…" Arnold tried desperately to think about the last time they'd had sex. Was it even possible? God, he hoped they were wrong. They had to be wrong. But… why did he want so desperately for them to be wrong?

"Mr. Shortman," Sullivan said, interrupting his thoughts. "Our forensics lab ran several tests on your apartment and found that a significant amount of blood had been cleaned up from your kitchen floor,"

Arnold inhaled sharply, "Really?"

"Yes," Sullivan nodded. "We initially noticed a splatter of blood across one of the cabinets and conducted a luminol test which revealed these results. The blood on the floor matched your wife's blood type, according to the information provided by Mr. Sawyer, but we're going to be checking Mrs. Shortman's medical records as well to be sure,"

Arnold's eyes were bulging and he felt dizzy.

"We'll be in touch," Sullivan said as she and Rollins stood up. At this moment, Brainy was coming in the door with a couple grocery bags and a 12 pack of soda under one arm. He eyed the detectives with curiosity as they walked past him and out the door.

Once the door was closed behind them, Rollins said in a low voice, "I don't like it,"

"You think he's good for this?" Sullivan questioned as they slowly descended the staircase.

"That's my best guess,"

Sullivan let out a deep breath as they came to the end of the steps and left the building. "Let's keep digging for now," She said as she unlocked the police car and the two of them hopped inside. "Even if he is, we're gonna be hard-pressed to make a murder case without a weapon or a body,"

. . . . . . . .

"Everything okay?" Brainy asked as he sat the groceries down on the dining room table.

"Yeah," Arnold said, shaking his head as he stood up. "Uh, yeah,"

Brainy paused, "It doesn't seem like it,"

Arnold absent-mindedly grabbed a few items from one of the grocery bags and started carrying them to the kitchen to put away. "Th-they… they think Lila was – is pregnant," He said, the words sounding strange as they left his mouth.

"Seriously?" Brainy inquired, opening the fridge and putting the 12 pack on one of the lower shelves.

Arnold nodded meekly, his gaze fixed and distant.

"So, um,"

"It doesn't make sense though!" Arnold suddenly exclaimed. "We haven't been… intimate… in I don't know how long. She hasn't wanted anything to do with me!"

Brainy pursed his lips and quietly continued to put groceries away.

"I-I… I don't –" Arnold was at a loss for words and abruptly sat a box of cheese crackers down on the counter, growling in frustration. "I need some air," He muttered, grabbing his coat from the back of one of the dining room chairs, and stormed out of the apartment.

. . . . . . . .

Arnold had come back to the apartment later that night after a long walk around Hillwood. Most of the snow was gone but the air was still cold and they were calling for another possible snowstorm the following weekend. A cloud of nostalgia had followed him around for hours as he trudged around the city. As complicated as he'd felt life was when he was a kid, he hadn't realized how difficult things would come to be. Never had he expected to be in the position he was in now and he felt like his mind was going faster than he could keep up with it. Could Lila actually have been pregnant? Honestly, he didn't want her to be. As messy and painful as he imagined it would be to go through a divorce, he couldn't imagine how much worse it would be to have a kid involved. He didn't want to put a child, _his own child_, through something like that. There had been a time in his life when he didn't even think he'd be the type to get a divorce in the first place. He had always believed that if two people worked at it, they could stay together. That is, until his own marriage with Lila began to unravel.

But what was the point in even worrying about this? Lila was missing and could possibly be seriously injured, or even dead. A pregnancy was the last thing to worry about right now. It was all too much and it made his head spin to the point of feeling like he wanted to throw up. How could he fix this? _Could _he fix this?

It was after one in the morning and Arnold was sitting at the dining room table in front of his laptop. All of the lights were off and his face was illuminated solely by the light emanating from the screen.

Brainy emerged from his room to go to the bathroom when he noticed the light and followed it out into the main living area.

"What are you still doing up?" He inquired.

"I can't sleep," Arnold muttered, fatigued but awake.

Brainy walked over and with one glance at the screen, looked back at Arnold. "I've created a monster,"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Arnold glared at him slightly.

"Arnold," Brainy said. "I don't think I have to tell you that _this-_" He nodded at the computer. "-is the last thing I'd expect from someone whose wife was missing and possibly pregnant,"

Arnold cringed at the words and sighed, sitting back. "I'm just trying to understand," He sighed.

"Shouldn't you be more worried about Lila being gone?" Brainy questioned.

"Of course I am!" Arnold exclaimed heatedly. "But I can't _do _anything about that, can I?"

"Can you do anything about _her?_" Brainy pointed at the laptop.

Arnold grumbled. "I have no idea," He crossed his arms over the table and rested his forehead against them, making his words somewhat muffled. "She went back to work and I sent her an email – nothing special, just some information that I thought could help with something she's doing at work – but she didn't even open it,"

"When do you think you're actually gonna try and talk to her?" Brainy asked gently.

Arnold paused. "I don't know," He sighed, sitting back up. "I don't know what I'd even say. I feel responsible and I just…" A soft growl escaped his throat and he looked back at the computer. "It's not the right time now, anyway, with everything else that's going on. I can help her from a distance,"

"Can you?" Brainy raised an eyebrow as a yawn escaped him.

"I think so," Arnold said softly, only half-convinced. "Brainy, do you… do you think I'm doing the right thing? I mean, you knew her pretty well…"

Brainy sighed. "I haven't talked to her in a long time either - longer than you. She left Hillwood a couple years after you did and she didn't really keep in touch with anybody from around here,"

Arnold thought for a minute, watching the screen in front of him. Her computer had been idle for over an hour now but she'd left her email open with a message about flights to Concordia. Farther down in the inbox he saw his email, still unopened.

"When did you stop liking her?" Arnold inquired, not looking up.

Brainy thought for a moment, his pale blonde hair disheveled and his brown eyes bleary and tired. "I think it was sometime in middle school,"

"What happened?" Arnold met his friend's gaze.

Brainy shrugged, "I realized I was never gonna be the one she wanted,"


	6. Chapter 6

**[A/N: Now THIS was fun to write! I have a lot of other pieces of the outline sketched out but this is a good stopping point and I'm getting tired XD I hope you guys like this chapter. I have a feeling that you guys are gonna have more questions than answers for a while but trust me, it will all come together and make sense eventually! This story is gonna be a long one but hopefully I'll be able to update often enough. **

**If you have ideas as to where this is going or questions, I'd totally love to hear them. Reviews are very appreciated! The support you guys give is inspiration to keep going. **

**Anyway, enjoy the chapter. It's a nice long one! :)]**

**_Flashback – 2004_**

_"Don't struggle, little Lila," His voice was cruel and the girl could barely stand to look him in the eyes. His icy stare gave no indication of compassion as he slammed the back of her head against the brick wall. They were in a small alleyway between two tall buildings. It was dusk and Lila had been walking home from the city pool on this warm August evening. _

_"Let me go!" She pleaded, her voice immediately punctuated with sobs and fear. She tried to get away but he was behind her, one arm around her waist and the other groping her throat and mouth, trying to lessen her struggle. She was tiny compared to him, not even half-way through puberty but developed enough for him to have something to grab._

_"Such a pretty girl you've grown to be," His breath was hot against her ear and Lila shivered with disgust. "Almost as pretty as your mother was," Her heart was in a panic and tears were streaming down her face. She felt his hand sinking lower, toying with the hem of her bikini bottoms. She'd already lost her pool towel in the initial struggle._

_"Somebody please!" Lila cried out to no one in particular. From her vantage point she had no idea if anyone was nearby or not. "Help me!"_

_The man gripped her neck tight and Lila choked, leaning forward instinctively as she tried to lessen his grip. He grinned fiendishly and pulled her closer to his body. "Okay, no more games," His tone was harsher now, deeper, and Lila screwed her eyes shut as the world went dark._

. . . . . . . .

**Present Day**

Helga stepped into the Columbia International Airport, pulling a large purple and black suitcase behind her. She hadn't seen Rich in years but she figured she would recognize him when she saw him. Helga rolled her suitcase over to a window by the doors and sat down on the edge of a large potted plant. Rich was coming from Hillwood to fly to Concordia with her, all expenses covered by his grandfather.

"Helga?" Rich approached from the opposite direction in which Helga had come. "Hey," He greeted her warmly but her expression was blank.

"Hi," She forced a smile that didn't meet her eyes. "Have you checked in yet?"

"Not yet, have you?" He had a messenger bag over one shoulder and was rolling a much smaller suitcase in comparison to Helga's. His dark hair was messy but didn't look unkempt and he wore a pair of glasses that gave him a sophisticated appearance. "You look great,"

Helga ignored his compliment. "I haven't. Let's go," She immediately began to lead them to the check-in line and they stood in silence as they waited for their turn to approach.

"So how have you been?" Rich tried to make small talk as they weighed their bags and sent them on the conveyor belt to be loaded onto the plane. "You moved a few years ago, right?"

"Yeah," Helga gave a small nod and waited for her boarding pass to print, plucking it from the machine as soon as it popped out.

"I heard about the accident," Rich said, falling into step slightly behind her and not noticing the way her breath caught and her eyes clenched shut for a moment. "You're a living miracle,"

"Can we _not _talk about that?" Helga turned and glared at him which took Rich a back for a moment.

"Um, sure," He nodded as they got into the security line. "Sorry,"

Helga breathed and after a couple minutes spoke, "So, can you tell me more about what we're doing in Concordia?"

"Sure," Rich said as they placed their carry-ons on the conveyor belt as well as their shoes, belts, and coats. "My grandfather lives on the shore but most of my other relatives live on the island right next to it – it's small, only maybe seven miles long,"

He paused his explanation as he walked through the security scanner and waited for Helga to come through as well.

"My cousin's name was Marguerite and she disappeared almost thirty years ago," Rich said as he and Helga put their shoes, belts, and coats back on.

"So the likelihood of this actually being a fruitful search is slim," Helga said pointedly.

"Probably," Rich sighed. "But my grandfather is getting old. He won't be around for much longer and he hasn't given up on this for decades. I feel bad for him,"

"Hmm," Helga hummed.

Helga and Rich made idle chit-chat as they waited to board their plane and even as they waited for take-off, they barely spoke. Rich was on his smart phone and Helga stared out the window watching airport employees load their luggage before driving away on a little cart that pulled a longer cart that had once held everyone's suitcases and bags.

As the plane taxied around the landing strip, finally lifting off the ground and ascending higher and higher into the sky, Helga fell into a dissociated dreamland. She stared out at the cumulus clouds, sunlight bouncing off of them in the late morning sky, and fought off the memories that haunted her each day. The last thing she remembered was Arnold's green Packard, the one his grandfather let him use all the time, coming straight for her before she blacked out. She pushed down the geyser of emotion that threatened to erupt from her chest and took a breath to steady herself.

She looked over at Rich who had a pair of earphones in and his head was reclined back against the seat. Helga sighed and leaned her forehead against the window.

. . . . . . . .

William Bauer lived in a large mansion on the shoreline at the edge of the city of Concordia. The island next to it, nicknamed Linden's Cove, was technically considered part of Concordia since it was so close to shore and such a small island.

Helga and Rich showed up at the mansion in a cab and a butler was already standing at the gate waiting for them. As the iron gate opened and the cab pulled in, circling around the courtyard and coming to a stop in front of the house, Helga marveled at the sight of it all.

The yard seemed well-kept, despite winter's brutality. A thin layer of snow covered the ground as blades of dying grass peeped out. There was a fountain in the center of the courtyard, currently out of use, but Helga imagined that come spring this courtyard would be beautiful.

Rich handed some money to the cab driver and the two of them climbed out of the vehicle, grabbing their luggage from the trunk and following the butler inside.

"Welcome back, Mr. Bauer, Ms. Pataki," he'd said. "My name is Ronald. Come this way; Master Bauer is expecting you in his office,"

The two followed Ronald through the massive house and Helga found herself wide-eyed as she noted the towering bookshelves, the elaborately decorated interior with its fancy Persian rugs and ornate lighting fixtures, the large hand-painted portraits of whom she could only assume were other members of the Bauer family.

"Right this way," Ronald escorted them into a large room with windows almost as tall as the ceiling and a few bookcases that were just as impressive. There was a long mahogany desk at the end of the room with two matching chairs sitting in front of it. Another area rug accented the hardwood flooring in this room and at the desk sat a man with grey hair and a face touched by time and sadness.

"Thank you, Ron," The elderly man nodded to his butler and Ronald showed himself back out. "I'm so glad you both could make it," He said to Rich and Helga once they were alone. "How was your flight?"

Helga and Rich approached the desk, Rich being much more at ease and Helga still checking out her surroundings. The sky outside was overcast and big, thick, maroon curtains were drawn, allowing the soft lighting to gently brighten the room.

"Very quick, comfortable," Rich nodded.

"I wish you would've let me send you both first class," William frowned.

Helga wrinkled her nose but Rich responded, "Helga was a bit more comfortable flying economy,"

William opened his mouth to speak but instead shook his head and shrugged good-naturedly. "Ms. Pataki, welcome," He said warmly and the young woman turned to look at him. "Make yourself at home,"

"Uh, thanks," She uttered as she mirrored Rich's movements, sitting down in one of the chairs across from William's desk.

"So, Grandpa, would you care to elaborate on your story for Helga?" Rich nudged.

Helga thought it was kind of interesting but sweet how, even though they came from so much money and were part of society's elite, they still were like real people. She'd never spent much time getting to know Rich when they were in school together but she definitely noticed that neither he nor his grandfather came across as haughty or stuck-up – in fact, they seemed comfortably down-to-earth, despite their wealth.

"Of course," He nodded and Helga studied his aging face. It was clean-shaven which did nothing to disguise every wrinkle and frown-line the man had developed over time. His brow wrinkled and under his eyes was puffy. His eyes were bright and a light shade of grey and she noticed he had a widow's peak that sent a lock of his salt and pepper hair off into one direction in the front. He was wearing a crisp dress shirt but no blazer or tie. He looked respectable but relaxed.

"About thirty years ago," William began his story. "My niece, Marguerite, disappeared during a Fourth of July parade over on the island. She was the daughter of my late wife's sister, Sandra and her husband, Victor. My wife, Claudia and I lost our first child, a baby girl, shortly after she was born and so when Marguerite was born, I grew particularly fond of her as if she were my own," He sighed and smiled at Rich. "Of course, it wasn't long before your father Marcus came along," Rich smirked and nodded as William continued. "Anyway, Marguerite was an exceptional girl – very talented and kind. Her parents were often complimented on how well-mannered and sweet Marguerite was, even at a young age," William paused, his brow furrowing as he pinched his nose in thought, taking a deep breath. "She was sixteen at the time of the parade and the police searched for her for a long time but to no avail. On the day of the parade, the bridge had been shut down for several hours as one of its supports had weakened, causing a portion of it to collapse. The emergency personnel handled it quite promptly but people were stuck on the island for the better part of the day until the bridge was made passable,"

William seemed to read Helga's questioning look and chuckled, "The bridge is safe to pass now, as I'm sure you're wondering," Helga nodded, humming lightly to herself before giving William her attention again.

"By the time the bridge had been re-opened, Marguerite was already gone," William seemingly concluded with a sigh.

"So," Helga said, her gaze fixed on the desk in thought before looking back up at William. "Mr. Bauer, what do _you _think happened to your niece? You've been thinking about this for a while; I'm sure you have your own ideas,"

William sighed, clasping his hands together on the desk. "I believe she was murdered," He said quietly.

"Why is that?" Helga leaned forward, her curiosity more than piqued by this point. Even with everything haunting her these days, she was still fascinated by the mysterious and she couldn't think of a better distraction than this. At least for now.

"It was no secret that Marguerite was like a daughter to me," William explained. "You have to understand, Ms. Pataki, not everyone in our family is like Rich or Marguerite or myself. I'm afraid many of them have been corrupted by greed and hate. They all had their own reasons, of course, but they became cold nonetheless,"

Helga nodded thoughtfully.

"As I said, we searched for her night and day – divers scoured the shore, policemen and their dogs must have ran over every inch of that island and most of the shoreline here on the mainland but there was no trace of her," William stood up and walked over to one of the bookcases behind his desk, pulling out two large photo albums. "This album is from the year Marguerite disappeared and the other is a variety of photos from different times. The majority of the Bauer family is depicted in these photos so you'll be able to put faces to the names,"

"So you think one of your family members hurt Marguerite?" Helga inquired as she received the two albums and sat them in her lap.

"At this point, Ms. Pataki," William said as he slowly sat back down in his chair, arthritis making his movements shaky. "I don't trust any of them,"

"Great," Helga muttered as she began to flip through the old black and white and sepia-toned photographs.

"Ricky can show you around the island," William said and Rich glowered at the nickname but it faded quickly. "Everyone is aware that you're coming so there shouldn't be any surprises. I'd still be careful but they're expecting you," He turned to Rich. "Make sure you show her Marguerite's childhood home as well as the barn," Rich nodded in reply. "I don't want to overload you with too much information right away. You're free to take more photo albums if you wish and don't hesitate to ask if you have questions or need assistance with anything," Helga closed the photo album she'd been looking through and looked up to nod at the old man. "There's a cottage on the island, about five miles in, where you can stay during your investigation, and Ms. Pataki?"

"Hmm?"

"I will understand if you aren't able to find my niece," He said gently. "All I'm asking is for you to try and you should know I am terribly, terribly grateful.

_I guess that's where he got that from. _Helga smirked, glancing at Rich who hadn't noticed his grandfather using the same manner of speaking he'd often used when they were kids.

"I'll do what I can," Helga nodded respectfully to the older man as he stood up and the two young adults walked out of his office.

. . . . . . . .

**Lila's Diary – 2013**

It's late and Arnold is already asleep but I can't contain myself. I have to get this out! Tonight was ever so wonderful. I thought we'd lost the spark that brought us together but it's our third wedding anniversary and Arnold made this evening more special than I had anticipated!

We went to a nice restaurant downtown after he got off of work and oh, he was such a gentleman - pulling my chair out, brushing my hair out of my face, complimenting me. For the first time in so long, it truly felt like with me was the only place he wanted to be. With all the stress we've been through over the past couple years, I wasn't sure what was happening with us but things have been good – ever so – no! They've been magical and perfect and I love this man with all of my heart.

We talked and flirted and when we got back to our apartment he couldn't keep his hands off of me! This is exactly what I needed and have wanted from him for so long.

. . . . . . . .

**Present Day**

Later that night, Helga and Rich were settled into the cottage. It was a small, one-story building with two bedrooms, one bathroom and a combined living room-dining room-kitchen area that spanned the length of the house. It was made primarily of brick and was surrounded by woods and the properties of the other Bauers. Before sunset, Rich had driven them around the island on a moped his grandfather had kept for him since Rich was a teenager. With the sun going down, it'd gotten chillier and so no one had been out and about for him to introduce her to but he was able to help her get a lay of the land.

Now Helga sat at a round table, a myriad of photo albums open in front of her as she studied each one in detail. She felt like some sort of internal struggle was happening inside her as she didn't want to admit she was actually enjoying something. It'd been so long since she allowed herself to feel comfortable and passionate about something.

Rich had been sitting over on the couch watching TV but was now in the kitchen stirring a pot of box macaroni on the stove.

"I don't think I've had this since I was a kid," He laughed, trying to make small talk with Helga though she didn't respond. He scooped a portion into a bowl and walked over to the table. "Take a break. You haven't eaten since that bag of chips in the airport," He stuck the bowl in front of her face and she glared at it for a moment before sighing and pushing the closest photo album away from her. Rich sat the bowl in front of her and went back to the stove to dish a helping out for himself.

Helga played with the fork in her bowl and watched Rich at the counter. "No butler service out here in the woods, huh?" She joked sarcastically and Rich turned around.

He shrugged, smirking. "I suppose not," He nodded to the television on the other side of the room. "Want to watch something?"

"I'm supposed to be here working, aren't I?" She challenged, pointedly sticking a forkful of macaroni into her mouth and giving him a look.

"You can take a few minutes to relax," Rich tilted his head. "You've been at it for hours. Come on,"

Helga huffed and picked up her bowl, following him over to the couch and plopping down on the cushion next to him.

She stole glances at him when he didn't appear to be looking. He'd certainly changed since she saw him last and yet, he still looked familiar. She did notice, however, the slightly paler tone to his skin and the way he'd tried to hide his shortness of breath when they had been walking around the airport earlier that day. She wanted to ask him about his heart condition but she wasn't quite sure how to broach the subject. He hadn't confided that information to her and she couldn't very well tell him that she'd found his name on a list of people in Hillwood needing organ donors. She couldn't tell him that the whole reason she'd even agreed to help him and his grandfather with this probably pointless search was that she was trying to atone for what she'd done and the people she'd hurt in the accident. She couldn't tell him that she resented the fact that she'd lived and Arnold had died – a person who she had no doubt would've done more good in the world than she ever could - and it was her fault. She couldn't tell him that she'd been researching people and making plans to donate organs to those people who seemed like they deserved them. She couldn't tell him that she was considering giving him her heart.

. . . . . . . .

The Hillwood Community Center was often used for business meetings, conventions, class reunions and sometimes school dances. Rhonda had rented the entire space and tastefully decorated the interior with lights and posters of Lila. There was a buffet table at one end of the room with almost a dozen waiters and waitresses consistently restocking the food supply and a few tall cocktail tables were scattered around the room, each of which was covered with a simple white cloth.

There were a few news crews hanging around and several small tables had been set up with phones and people wearing headsets fielding calls to the tipline.

Arnold walked in with Mr. Sawyer and Brainy and was bombarded by camera crews almost immediately.

"Mr. Shortman, who do you blame for your wife's disappearance?"

"Is it true that the police found blood stains in your apartment?"

"Mr. Sawyer, do you believe your daughter is still alive?"

"Alright, alright," Sullivan and Rollins, who had been hanging around the entrance checking out the people who came, intervened and stepped between the guys and the camera crews. "I told you all to tread lightly tonight,"

The three men took their opportunity to escape the cameras and moved farther into the large room. There were more people than Arnold had been expecting but when he thought about it, it made sense. Even though Lila had become so withdrawn, she'd always been adored by even her acquaintances.

Most people were talking and Arnold tried to make his way over to the beverage table as Mr. Sawyer talked with Mrs. Vitello and Brainy scampered off to find the men's room.

"Arnold, dear," Rhonda appeared behind him, lighting tapping him on the shoulder as he turned around, a plastic up of water in his hand. "So glad you could make it," She flashed a sparkly white smile and lifted her wine glass to him.

"Obviously I would make it, Rhonda," Arnold said evenly. "Lila _is _my wife,"

"Yes," Rhonda replied, unimpressed, before looking over to where the press were interviewing someone Arnold didn't recognize. "The press release will be in about half an hour so you might want to tidy up your hair or… something," Rhonda said, casting a disdainful look at Arnold's unruly hair.

"The what?" He repeated, eyes slightly wide. "Why didn't you tell me I had to make a statement?"

"Oh, Arnold," She tsk-tsked. "Surely you must have _assumed_,"

He only glared, sipping his water and wishing he had something stronger. "Well at least I know now," He sighed.

"That's the spirit," Rhonda chimed. "Always loved that about you,"

A man Arnold didn't recognize called Rhonda from the crowd and she excused herself to go meet with them.

_Why is Rhonda being so… weird? And frustrating? I know she can be kind of full of herself sometimes but I thought we were on good terms. _Arnold thought to himself. _Something doesn't feel right._

Arnold wandered around until the press release. Several people had come up to him to express their concern, sympathy, and well-wishes before he'd been charged with stepping up onto a platform at the end of the room along with Mr. Sawyer. Between them was a large poster of Lila, smiling broadly as her auburn hair fell in gentle curls around her face and bounced off the tops of her shoulders.

"Um," Arnold said, lights shining directly onto his face from above. "Thank you all for being here tonight to help support us in our search for Lila. If you have any information that could help us find her, please share it with the police so that we can find her," Arnold winced when a beam of light caught him in the eye and the flashes from the photographers did nothing to alleviate the problem.

"Mr. Shortman, are you worried about your wife and the likelihood that she may not be found?" A reporter called out from the front.

"U-Uh no," Arnold shook his head. "The police know what they're doing. If we all work together, I'm sure we can find out what happened and bring her safely home,"

"Please help us find my little girl," Mr. Sawyer stated when a reporter stuck their microphone in his face. "She's all I have in this world and she means everything to me. I know a lot of you have been friends with Lila or gone to school with her so you know she's a very special girl and she's been through a lot. Please help us bring her back home where she belongs," He finished his emotional plea and, at a loss for words and feeling awkward and uncomfortable, Arnold moved to leave the stage. That is, until Jenny Gilbert pushed her way through the crowd.

"What did you do to her, Arnold?" She yelled out angrily, immediately capturing the attention of the reporters around her who stuck their microphones out to Arnold.

"I-I - what are you talking about?" He stammered, halting in his tracks.

"Did you tell them Lila was pregnant, you asshole?" She cried. "Did you? Or that you didn't want the baby so you could keep sleeping around, you insensitive pig?!"

The crowd roared with questions and confusion as Sullivan and Rollins quickly jogged up to the platform and escorted Arnold away from the reporters and through several doors leading to a separate corridor.

"W-Wha – why'd she do that?" Arnold exclaimed, flabbergasted. "It's not true. It can't be true! Why would she lie to everyone?"

Sullivan and Rollins looked at each other, unfazed by Arnold's confusion. "Mr. Shortman," Sullivan said calmly as Rollins stood by, arms crossed over his chest. "We contacted your wife's doctor and were able to review her medical records," Arnold ceased his flustering to look at the two detectives. "She was indeed pregnant,"

Arnold's eyes narrowed in disbelief and he shook his head. "But-but that doesn't… we…" He couldn't wrap his mind around what they were telling him and he suddenly became aware that they were still staring at him and their eyes didn't look friendly.

"You remember that blood spatter we talked about before?" Sullivan asked. "And the large pool of blood we found that had been cleaned up?" Arnold nodded weakly. "We compared the DNA from that to Lila's DNA in her medical records and found it was a match,"

Arnold swallowed. It wasn't surprising, considering the circumstances, but hearing the confirmation that it was indeed Lila who had lost that much blood made him feel like the room was spinning. Sure, their marriage had been falling apart but he still cared about her. He didn't want anything bad to happen to her.

"Mr. Shortman, do you have any idea how your wife could have lost _that _much blood?" Sullivan inquired.

"N-No, I don't," Arnold shook his head vigorously, his eyes still wide as he tried to make sense of everything they were telling him. "And she's pregnant?"

"Hard to say _now_," Rollins said gruffly. "That's a lotta blood to lose when you're pregnant,"

"Mr. Shortman, I'd like to run somethin' by you," Sullivan said, pursing her lips. "See, I've been tryin' to give you some benefit of the doubt for most of this investigation,"

"Huh?"

She continued. "But there's just a few things off that I'm gonna see if you can clear up for us," She gave him a pointed look as she paced back and forth in front of him. "Y'see, when you first called us to your apartment, somethin' felt suspicious. That table that was broken with the glass shattered everywhere, you remember?" Arnold nodded. "Makes you think there was some sort of struggle, don't it?" He nodded again. "If there was that much of a struggle that a piece of furniture got broken, I just could not understand why none of the pictures you guys had setting on the end tables had fallen over. Not a hair out of place, aside from that coffee table," She shook her head and looked at him. "Now, how do you think that happened?"

"I… I really don't know," Arnold shrugged, his gestures desperate. "I called you guys as soon as I got home!"

"Yes, I remember you tellin' us that," Sullivan nodded. "And just to be sure, I went back to that living room and jumped around. Do you know what happened?"

Arnold waited for her to continue.

"The _first _time I jumped in that little apartment of yours, at least half of those pictures moved or fell down. How could there be a struggle, _so intense, _that that coffee table gets busted up the way it did but nothing else is affected anywhere else in that room?" She crossed her arms, tilting her head as she looked at him.

"I-I don't know," Arnold exclaimed. "God… I've told you guys everything I know!"

"Have you?" Sullivan quirked an eyebrow. "Were you indeed having an affair?"

"No! I-I mean, once. It wasn't an affair, I just – There was a girl at the office and she quit soon after and I -"He scrambled with his words, his cheeks flushing bright red. "It was a mistake and it never happened again!" Realization suddenly dawned on Arnold and his eyes narrowed, his heart racing. They were trying to pin this on him! "I think I'm done talking with you guys,"

"Just one more—"

"No, I think I need a lawyer," Arnold said, swallowing and clenching his jaw shut.

Sullivan took a deep breath, exhaling through her nose. "Alright then," She turned to Rollins and nodded her head toward the hallway. "C'mon, Rollins,"

Arnold watched the two of them walk away and he fought the urge to turn around and yell or hit the wall. Instead he clenched his fists, leaning back against the wall and sliding to the floor.

. . . . . . . .

**Lila's Diary – 2014**

I'm at a loss, dear diary. I thought we could repair this relationship and things would get better and we'd be happy together. We were always supposed to be perfect together. Arnold and Lila. Lila and Arnold. But I… I can't believe what he has been doing. I'm not certain how long this has been going on but I'm ever so certain it has to do with how much time he has been spending with Brainy Lockhart since we moved back to Hillwood and he got that IT job.

We've had our arguments, certainly. Have I said or done things that I later regretted? Of course, who hasn't? But I don't know what to make of this. Arnold left his laptop on earlier tonight when he went to shower and as I was cleaning, I happened to notice that the screen looked strange. It didn't appear to be his normal screen. That's when I realized it wasn't _his _screen that I was looking at – it was someone else's! He had their email inbox open as well as several document folders. I was curious so I sat down and when I clicked the email inbox window, the name of the account immediately caught me off guard. I'm not sure as to why he would do this and I don't know how long it has been going on but I can't say that I'm okay with it. I didn't even know he knew how to do this and I'm afraid to bring it up because I'm not sure how he would react. But it looks like my husband is hacking into Helga Pataki's computer.


	7. Author's Note: RECAP

**Author's Note:**

**Hey guys, I was talking to a reader earlier and I think it would be a good idea to take a moment to help you guys connect some of the dots in this story. It's pretty complicated already and I want you guys to be able to enjoy it without being COMPLETELY confused. I'm gonna be including more information as we go, tying up loose ends and adding new ones, so I thought it would be a good idea to take a time-out and recap some important things we've learned in the fic so far.**

**-So, we just found out that Lila discovered that Arnold was hacking into Helga's computer. If you hadn't already figured that out, it may have been a surprise. She states this in her 2014 diary entry which, we're assuming the story takes place in 2015, present day. In Chapter 5, Arnold cryptically discusses his computer habits with Brainy as he is looking at Helga's inbox and trying to understand what she's doing. He also states that he sent her some information to try and help her out but she hasn't opened the message yet. In Chapter 1, Helga reads an email from an address simply labeled 'Gold'.**

**"**Several notifications caught her eye and the sound of her boss's footsteps eventually fading away was easily forgotten.

**_GOLD._**

Another email. They didn't come frequently but it sparked her curiosity every time they did. Another tip. Another lead. This had been going on for the past year and this time it was a tidbit of information about a local CEO embezzling money from his corporation."

**We can presume that this is the username Arnold has chosen to conceal his identity. Considering Arnold's hair is a golden color, you can see why I chose this. Also, in the book 'Arnold's E-Files', Helga gets messages from someone named GoldenHero (who she thinks is Arnold but it's actually Brainy but I digress...). However, he is not the one who sent the donor list to her. That's from a different, irrelevant source. She's a writer, she has sources.**

**Arnold's little 'project' is also mentioned in the middle of Chapter 4.**

**So, we know that Arnold is hacking into Helga's computer to send her helpful information for work and maybe check up on her a little bit, and it's kind of hinted that Brainy had played a role in Arnold's tech-saavy ways. The question now is why? He says he feels responsible. For what? **

**-Yes, Helga thinks Arnold is dead. I'm sorry if that wasn't as clear as I thought it was. Helga is clearly depressed and has pretty much socially isolated herself. Aside from work, she typically spends her time alone. Recall in Chapter 1, the flashback describing the accident:  
**"With napkins finally in hand, the last thing Helga saw was someone's license plate before she slammed into the vehicle in front of her. The impact caused her car to flip and roll upside down as the sounds of metal crashing into metal – scraping, grinding, crunching, compressing – was a cacophony to her ears. The last thing she saw before blacking out was a flash of green as a **Packard**, unable to stop in time, slammed into the passenger side of her car."

**The accident happened because, due to a series of unfortunate events, Helga wasn't paying attention and she caused the accident. She woke up following the flip of her car, only to have a Packard slam into the side of her car. In addition, we have these vague statements she overheard in the hospital:**

"… the accident … interstate … "

"… wasn't your fault… "

"…Arnold?"

"… don't… hospital … afraid … die…"

**And later, we have this:**

"That was in the past, though. She'd come through, yes, but for what? The burden she carried on her shoulders was enough to hold her in place as if her ankles were shackled to two boulders. She cut herself off from that life and moved to Columbia to start something new. However, much to her chagrin, her past haunted her.

_Maurice Loenstein, Cindy Loenstein, Jimmy Loenstein, Brianna Loenstein, Thomas Anderson, Maria Gutierrez, Ar—"_

**All of this was supposed to point you in the direction of Helga thinking that Arnold did not survive the crash. I will be explaining this in more detail but for now, the important things to know are that:  
-Helga thinks Arnold died and that she caused his death.  
-She made a conscious effort to push everyone away and thus, has not been talking to almost anyone from Hillwood in years. She was in a coma for almost a year and then physical therapy in which she was essentially a toddler for a while. Due to shame and embarrassment, she didn't want visitors and didn't really want to talk to anyone because she COULDN'T talk for a while. Her pride got the best of her in that regard. Besides, by the time she recovered from the accident, it'd been a couple years and most people had moved on with their lives. Time, in a way, stood still for her while her peers did their own thing.  
-There are still loose ends to tie up in this but hopefully once I do, it'll make sense. Helga's an emotional character and when she's really upset and worked up, she isn't always logical so that's what's fueling my idea (that you will find out about later). **

**Another thing about Helga:**

**This donor registry thing. If you haven't already figured it out, Helga got a list of donors and has been scoping certain people out and trying to find out if they were good people (reflecting on her despair over losing Arnold. In her attempts to atone for what, in her mind, is THE worst and most unforgivable thing she could be responsible for, she is trying to find people as deserving as Arnold would have been to donate to. After her comment about giving her heart to Rich, you can safely assume that Helga ultimately intends to end her life as she donates organs to people, one by one (and if you haven't figured THIS out already, the second movie whose plotline is being weaved into my web is Seven Pounds). **

**So, I think those are the two important things I needed to clear up. Other than that stuff, we know that Helga is helping Rich and has multiple motives for doing so (helping in more than one way - helping to find the niece and potentially giving her heart to Rich who has a heart condition when the time is right). We have this mystery going on with Lila that is steadily unfolding and if anything isn't clear with that, please let me know. I'm trying to be vague enough to make you think but I don't want to be so vague that I don't drop enough hints for you to properly follow or figure out what's going on!**

**Some questions to think about as you read:**

**Why is Arnold hacking into Helga's computer and spying on her? Why hasn't he actually tried to contact her?  
What is up with Rhonda's weird and rude behavior?  
Where the heck is Lila and how did she lose all that blood?  
What else may have contributed to Helga thinking Arnold is dead?  
What is the significance, if any, of Marguerite and what happened to her?  
How is Helga's relationship with Rich (Peapod Kid) going to unfold?  
What exactly happened to Lila when she was in middle school and who did it?  
Why is Jenny Gilbert important and what was the significance of Arnold's lapse of judgment with Katie at the office?**

**Those are just a few things to ponder! :) In the meantime, please please please let me know if anything else needs clarification. I'm trying to keep this mysterious and fun and hearing the reader's thoughts, suspicions, and questions is invaluable to the writing process! **

**Toodles!**

**Muffin **


	8. Chapter 7

**[A/N: Hey all! This chapter is going to provide you with a lot of information. It's okay if you don't completely understand where it's going yet. Just keep this stuff in the back of your mind as we go forward. We're getting somewhat close to the middle of the story. **

**Also, this is a warning: There is a scene in which sexual violence is strongly suggested. If you want to skip over it, it is the scene labeled Flashback - 2004. It is helpful to understanding the storyline but not critical. Also, if you think I need to make it more vague/change the rating label to M, please let me know. I don't want to offend anyone even if it is important to the context of the story.**

**Other than that, have fun with the puzzle pieces!**

**I don't own Hey Arnold]**

**_Flashback – 2010 – Arnold and Lila's Wedding Day_**

_Lila and Arnold were having their ceremony and reception in the City Park at a more secluded section near the lake that they'd reserved. It was a bright, mild spring day and flowers were beginning to bloom, making it the perfect time for an outdoor wedding. They'd purposefully kept the guest list small and the event modest since neither side of their family had a lot of money and Lila had had her heart set on an outdoor wedding._

_Arnold was downstairs in the living room, dressed and waiting for the towncar that would take him and his groomsmen over to the park. Gerald stood by with Phoebe on his arm, as well as Sid and Harold who were busying digging into a glass dish of chocolate truffles on a table in the foyer. Stinky, another groomsman, had excused himself to go to the bathroom._

_"Oh, Arnold," Phoebe admired her friend. "I must say, you look positively charming," She smiled._

_"She's right, man," Gerald nodded in approval. "You clean up nice,"_

_Arnold chuckled nervously. "Thanks guys," He darted a glance at the staircase. "I'm gonna get some water before the car gets here. Be right back," He said and disappeared into the kitchen._

_Phoebe watched him walk away, then turned to her husband and sighed. Gerald could instantly read his wife's fallen expression. "Helga didn't answer your call?"_

_"No," Phoebe shook her head. "Olga says she's been steadily making progress with her physical therapy and she has her cell phone now but I'm afraid I haven't been able to get ahold of her once. If it hadn't been for Olga answering when I tried to call last week, I wouldn't even know that much. Apparently Helga's speech is still impaired and Olga believes she is self-conscious about it,"_

_Gerald reassuringly rubbed his hand up and down his wife's shoulder. "She'll bounce back. I wouldn't expect anything less from Pataki,"_

_"I suppose," Phoebe murmured half-heartedly before forcing herself to shake away her sullen mood. "I should probably get going. Your towncar will be here any minute and I should head to the park and get a seat,"_

_"Sounds good," Gerald kissed her forehead. "I'll see ya over there," He winked and Phoebe smiled._

_. . . . . . . ._

_Meanwhile, Lila stood in front of a full-length mirror in one of the rooms of the boarding house. She was dressed in a long chiffon gown and a small veil billowed out from the bun her hair had been fastened into. Her make-up was modest and she was contemplating whether or not she was ready, swishing her dress and studying her appearance, when a gentle knock came at the door._

_"Who is it?" She called, turning to the door. Her bridesmaids were in the next room getting ready and she assumed it was one of them coming to check on her. Her eyes widened in surprise when Stinky slipped into the room and quickly closed the door behind him, leaning against it as he bit his lip nervously._

_"Stinky! I—what are you doing here?" Lila asked, confused. "Is everything okay?"_

_Stinky took a deep breath, wringing his shaking hands together. "Ms. Lila…"_

_"Oh, Stinky," Lila giggled. "You really don't have to call me that. We're both adults," She approached him and smiled. "What's wrong?" She noted his anxious demeanor._

_He paused. "Lila… there's uh – I reckon there's somethin' I ought to tell you," He paused and Lila looked up at him expectantly._

_"Well?"_

_"I-I—" Stinky stammered. "I know it ain't right," He said, pausing to take another breath and letting it out in a sigh as he refused to meet her gaze. "Arnold's a good friend of mine and I would never do wrong by him,"_

_"Okay…"_

_"But," Stinky tentatively glanced at Lila and tried not to get caught up in her eyes. " A-And I don't wanna get in the way or cause either of you problems, I just gotta get this off my chest,"_

_Lila nodded thoughtfully._

_"Lila, I never told you this and I reckon I'm a fool for it but… I… I love you. I've loved you for a very long time and I know you're gettin' ready to marry my friend and I don't wanna ruin your day for you but I couldn'ta lived with myself if I didn't come clean," He looked away again. "I'm sorry I never told you and I'm sorry this ain't really a good time to be tellin' you this but I just couldn't –"_

_Lila grabbed Stinky's hand and he immediately turned to look at her, eyes wide. _

_She smiled up at him. "It's okay, Stinky," _

_. . . . . . . ._

**Present Day**

William arrived at the cottage the following morning with Ron and a few other men carrying large boxes.

"What's this?" Helga inquired as she watched a man she didn't recognize plop a cardboard box down next to the couch and another come in and do the same. She wiped the sleep from her eyes – she'd only woken up ten minutes ago when she heard William knocking and Rich answer the door.

"These should help you in your investigation," William explained as he watched two more boxes being added to the pile and his helpers went outside to wait by the car. "Several of Marguerite's belongings, more photos, police reports, newspaper articles,"

Helga eyed the boxes warily as Rich stood by in a pair of sweatpants and an old band T-shirt. "Thanks Grandpa," He said.

"Ms. Pataki," William addressed Helga again, drawing her attention away from the boxes. "I know this is a lot that I'm asking of you. The fact that you're willing to try and help leaves me more than grateful," Helga winced slightly but William didn't notice as he sighed. "It's been so many years so I know it's a long shot but I don't want to go to my grave not knowing what happened to her," He paused. "Or at least knowing that I tried my damnedest to find out," Helga offered a weak half-smile and William patted her on the shoulder before turning around. "Rich, have you shown her the barn?" He asked, pausing at the doorway.

"Not yet," Rich shook his head and pushing his bedraggled hair out of his face. He wasn't wearing his glasses and his eyes looked weary.

"I'll come back after lunch, then," William stated "It's probably just as well," Rich shot his grandfather a look that went unnoticed. "I'll see you both in a few hours," He said and pulled the door closed behind him.

"What did your grandfather mean by that?" Helga inquired, one eyebrow raised.

"Huh?" Rich turned to her. "By what?"

"_'It's probably just as well,'" _Helga repeated.

"Oh," Rich furrowed his brow and sighed. "He doesn't really want me to overexert myself,"

_Because of your heart condition._ Helga feigned ignorance. "How come?"

Rich rested his weight on one foot, rubbing his arm. "I have a heart problem,"

"You do?" _Keep pretending you don't know anything. He's introducing the topic perfectly. _

"Yeah," Rich nodded. "Congenital heart disease – I was born with it. It didn't really affect me much as a kid but over the past couple years it's gotten kinda bad…" His voice trailed off and became softer.

"Wow," Helga said, raising her eyebrows as if she was surprised to hear this news. "Can they do anything about it?"

Rich shrugged. "Not really," He said. "Aside from a heart transplant, there isn't much to do. I'm on a couple lists but I have a rare blood type so finding a donor isn't easy, ya know?"

Helga nodded understandingly. "Are you okay to keep helping with this?"

Rich let out a soft groan and Helga waited expectantly for him to respond. "I can't hike through the woods around here and I can't run a marathon but I can sit on a couch and go through a box of old stuff," He huffed impatiently and paused. "Sorry,"

"It's fine," Helga shook her head.

"No, I shouldn't snap at you," Rich ran both hands through his already-messy hair. "I'm just frustrated. It's not fair, you know?" He walked over to the couch and half-sat on the arm of it. "I've passed out a few times – just out of nowhere – and I lose my breath sometimes if I try and push myself too much,"

Helga nodded thoughtfully. "I'm… really sorry to hear that," She pursed her lips as neither of them made eye contact with one another.

"Yeah," Rich sighed. "Thanks. I think that's a big part of why I really want to help my grandfather. This means so much to him and we were always quite close when I was a kid. Besides," Rich added with a dismal tone. "He'll probably outlive me so I wanna do what I can, while I can. Does that make sense?"

Helga lifted her eyes to meet his and studied him for a second. "Yeah," She said, nodding slowly. "I think it does,"

After a moment, she turned her gaze back to the four huge boxes now sitting in the living room and exhaled a long, deep breath.

"I guess we have our work cut out for us, huh?" Rich spoke, scratching the back of his head before a yawn escaped him, reminding him he was still tired.

"Yeah," Helga sighed, sizing up the boxes one more time before undoing the flaps to the box on top. "Better get started, I guess; it's gonna be a long day,"

Rich pulled another box over to the front of the couch and sat down as he started to go through its contents. He got up a moment later to go to his room and retrieve his glasses and Helga watched him go. So far it felt like giving him her heart would be a good idea. She still wanted to take her time and make sure and it wasn't like she wouldn't have plenty of opportunity to talk to him and get to know him more.

He concealed his illness well; if she hadn't already been privy to the fact that he was sick and if he hadn't admitted it all to her, she probably wouldn't have known. Sure, he seemed a bit pale and appeared to tire easily but he wasn't frail or incapable of doing things for himself. Considering his condition, he actually looked pretty good. He had a sweet but mature face and a small amount of facial hair that was obviously growing back from being shaved off a few days prior. His hair was usually relatively messy because he often ruffled it when he was thinking hard about something. He was a couple inches taller than Helga and had the body of an athlete, though his physicality had been impacted by his illness and thus, he wasn't as strong as he'd been in high school. When he returned from his room, Helga pulled her eyes away and turned back to her box as Rich headed for the couch.

Helga opened her box to find a framed black and white picture of Marguerite sitting on top. She had a soft smile and what Helga assumed must have been brown eyes. Her hair was dark, falling a few inches past her shoulders in loose waves, and was pulled away from her face by a thin, light-colored headband. Helga eyed the picture quizzically, trying to read the girl's expression. There was a sticky-note stuck to the frame that said 'Marguerite – 16'. "So this is what you looked like when you disappeared, huh?" Helga murmured.

It wasn't long after Helga had unearthed about half of what was in her box when Rich broke the silence between them. "Well, this is interesting," He commented.

"What is?" Helga stood up from where she'd previously been sitting cross-legged next to her box.

Rich turned around on the couch and waved a small black leather book at her. "I think it was Marguerite's journal,"

"Let me see that," Helga instructed and Rich released it into her grasp, turning around on the couch to watch her look through it.

Helga flipped through the pages quickly. "I'm gonna hold onto this and really check it out once I get through this box," She sat the small book beside her. "Your family is freaking huge," She said as she dug back into the box.

"Yeah," Rich nodded, crossing his arms over the back of the couch and resting his head against them as he watched Helga. "My grandfather had three brothers and a sister," He pointed as Helga pulled out photo after photo. "That's Elizabeth – she was his only sister, and those two there are John and Maxwell," Helga set the photos aside as she continued to pull out more. "That's Victor and Sandra - Marguerite's parents and this is Henry, Marguerite's older brother. Henry lives in the brown house down by the shore. We passed it on the way here. Maxwell's still around, too but he doesn't socialize much and he's kind of mean. Henry took over my grandfather's business when he retired,"

"Criminy, I'm gonna need a freaking bulletin board to keep track of all this," Helga muttered as she dug through the last few items in the box and pulled out another photo. "Those are the cousins – my aunts and uncles. There's Marguerite on the left and right here is Douglas, Natalie, Adrienne, and my dad, Marcus,"

"Who's that one?" Helga pointed to a young girl with shoulder-length, straight black hair.

"Hmm," Rich squinted at the picture. "I'm not sure, actually. She's not part of the family, I know that much,"

"Okay then," Helga said, setting the picture aside along with the journal and a few of the family photos. "What the hell?" Helga suddenly exclaimed, picking up another picture that was particularly alarming, primarily because of the uniforms being worn by the three men in the picture. "Your grandpa's brothers were Nazis?"

. . . . . . . .

Just as promised, William showed up at the cottage again after lunch time. After some insistence, Rich accompanied Helga and William on the drive over to the barn about a mile down the road.

"That's Henry's house," Rich pointed as they passed a large brown house surrounded by tall, leafless trees. It had warmed up considerably this morning and much of the snow had melted, leaving everything wet and muddy. "And this is the barn," He said as they parked and Helga realized the barn was right next to Henry's house.

The barn didn't look as though it had been used in quite some time but its doors and windows were still functional and solid. Helga, Rich, William, and Ron stepped out of the car and headed toward the main doors.

"Hey there!" A voice called out from behind them and they turned around.

"Hi Henry," William greeted the man. He had brown hair that was grey around the ears, thick black eyebrows and looked to be in his fifties. "Have you met Ms. Pataki yet?"

"I haven't had the pleasure," He smiled and extended his hand for her to shake.

"Hi," Helga said, unenthused as he pumped her hand and then put his hands on his hips.

"So, the famous news journalist comes to this god-forsaken island to solve the unsolvable," He chuckled and Helga rolled her eyes.

"I'm far from famous," She muttered.

"You did quite a number with the Langston embezzlement case," William piped up.

"You must have some impressive sources," Henry grinned and Helga shrugged.

"We were just about to show Ms. Pataki the barn," William said, getting them back on task.

"Ah yes," Henry sighed. "The barn,"

Rich leaned over and whispered in Helga's ear, catching her off-guard and making her skin prickle even though the content of his message was grim. "His dad died on the other side of the barn,"

Helga turned to Rich, eyebrows raised and he simply nodded solemnly.

"I figured it would help her find insight," William said. "Marguerite spent a lot of time up in the loft,"

"Yeah," Henry said simply, then brightened as an idea struck. "Rich, would you and Ms. Pataki like to come to the house for dinner tonight?"

"Okay, for the love of all things holy, can everyone please stop calling me 'Ms. Pataki'? Helga works perfectly fine," Helga said, the formality of it all finally breaking through her threshold.

"Of course," William smiled warmly. "However you would like to be referred to, that is what we will use,"

"Thanks," Helga said gratefully. _How ironic that my own father couldn't do that. _She thought flippantly.

"Come by the house around seven tonight," Henry said, "I've gotta get going," He waved before walking up a hill to the side of his house.

The foursome entered the barn and Helga looked around, listening as William talked about how Marguerite would spend time tending to the animals and sitting up in the loft writing. The pens were empty but there was still a lot of hay scattered around the dirt floor of the barn. A wooden ladder led up to the loft where Helga could imagine the young girl relaxing and writing – perhaps in the same journal she and Rich had found?

"Hey, um," Helga, emerging from her thoughts, interrupted William. "I just remembered I wanted to ask you – your brothers were Nazis?" She quirked a suspicious eyebrow and William sighed.

"You certainly work quickly, Ms. – erm, Helga," A small smile traced his lips before deepening into a frown as he clasped his hands together behind his back. "Yes, John and Victor were part of the Nazi party. Maxwell was a member of the Hitler Youth," He looked down, letting out a deep breath through his nose as this was obviously something he wasn't proud of. "My parents and grandparents left Germany after the first World War and my family lived in Poland during the second. We didn't move to the United States until after the war and I was only five years old at the time,"

"That explains why you don't have an accent," Helga commented and William nodded before continuing.

"I was the youngest of the boys and my sister Elizabeth was the baby of the family. Victor was the eldest but he died many years ago after falling from that window up there," William pointed to a window up on the loft level. "I don't know if you noticed this but this barn rests at the edge of a hill. Down at the bottom is the shoreline,"

Helga winced at the thought as William continued to explain. "Victor was an alcoholic, I'm afraid. We believe that was the reason he fell from the window," William sighed. "Maxwell, Sandra, and I are the last living elders of the family. John died in the war, Elizabeth in a car accident, and my dear Claudia lost her fight with breast cancer five years ago,"

"I'm really sorry to hear that," Helga offered pitifully and William nodded, going on.

"Maxwell lives a couple miles farther down the island and Sandra lives right around that spot as well. This house-" William pointed to Henry's brown house. "—was the house he and Marguerite grew up in. After their father's death and Marguerite's disappearance, Sandra moved into her current house and left this one to Henry,"

"That sounds nice of her," Helga remarked and William scoffed.

"It wasn't for him. Henry was eighteen when Marguerite disappeared and Sandra had never been the mothering type. She wanted her own space,"

"Hmm," Helga hummed.

"Sandra was a terrible mother to Marguerite – to both her and Henry. She neglected them often and did not speak with them unless it suited her purposes," William muttered, his brow furrowed.

_That sounds familiar… _Helga thought, pushing down memories of her own troubled childhood.

. . . . . . . .

**_Flashback – 2004_**

_Lila's vision was hazy as she slowly began to wake up. Her body jostled against something cold and she realized she was on the floor of a van. She tugged at her arms but they were tied to the sidewalls of the van. A piece of fabric – maybe a sock – was stuck far down the back of her throat and she wrestled with her gag reflex as she tried to scream. There was an opening between the back of the van and the front seats but as hard as she tried, she couldn't turn around to see who was driving the van. It was dark and her eyes were still adjusting to being awake. Each time the truck hit a bump in the road, Lila winced from the pain radiating inside her head. _

_She looked down and groaned – she was still only wearing her bathing suit. Tears brimmed in her eyes as fear settled in. What was she going to do? How could she get out of this? She had no way to contact anyone for help and she wasn't even sure where she was at the moment. _

_Suddenly the car stopped and Lila gasped against the sock in her mouth as she heard the driver's side door open and shut. The back doors opened and Lila cinched her eyes shut, her heart racing in her chest and her sobs coming out muffled._

_Her eyes, finally able to focus, widened as the man who'd attacked her earlier looked down at her with cold, hungry eyes. She kicked at him fiercely, wildly, and he dodged each strike, eventually grabbing one ankle at a time and tying them both down so that she was facing down. She did her best to turn back around to face him so she could see what he was doing but the ropes only allowed her to turn on her side at most. _

_"See what happens when you put up a fight?" He said, approaching her on his knees and pulling a small switchblade from his back pocket. Behind him, one of the doors was still half open and Lila could see they were on a highway but she wasn't sure where. The road wasn't busy and one or two cars passed by the van. "You only make things harder for yourself," The man gently pressed the tip of the blade against Lila's face, not hard enough to cut, and trailed it down and along her neck, her collarbone, her chest._

_Lila's eyes flushed a new set of tears and she tried to squirm away from him but with her limbs immobilized, she couldn't get away. She bit into the sock when she felt the blade press harder, this time surely drawing blood, though she couldn't see for sure. Her breath was sharp and punctuated by sobs as she felt hands on her hips, pulling away her bathing suit. It was quiet for a moment and Lila turned around slightly to see he was just staring at her with eyes that chilled her to the bone. He noticed her looking and threw a fist at the back of her head, sending her forehead into the floor and making her dizzy again. The last thing she heard as she fell into unconsciousness once again was the sound of a belt buckle and a zipper._

_. . . . . . . ._

**Present Day**

"Hey Rich," Helga said, walking over to where Rich was lounging on the couch looking through one of the many photo albums William had sent over. "Check this out," She leaned over the back of the couch and put the open journal in front of his face.

Rich laid the photo album down on his lap. "Huh…"

"What do you think this is supposed to mean?" Helga asked. "Do any of these names look familiar?"

"No, I don't think so," Rich shook his head. "That's weird," He sat up to better inspect the entry, bringing the two of them closer together in the process since Helga was still leaning over.

Helga read off the names on the entry, mostly to herself but loud enough for Rich to hear. "_'Magda 30112; Sara 32016; BJ 32027; LI 31208; Mari 32018,'_"

Rich studied the entry for a couple more minutes before handing it back to Helga. "Yeah, I'm not sure. Not off-hand, at least," He turned to lean over the back of the couch as Helga walked back over to the kitchen table.

"And another thing," Helga said. "She keeps mentioning some girl named Brooke. Who the hell is Brooke?"

Rich shrugged.

"Whoever she is," Helga sighed. "It looks like she and Marguerite spent a lot of time together,"

. . . . . . . .

**_Flashback – 10 Months Ago_**

_"Why on earth didn't you tell me sooner!?" Rhonda exclaimed to Lila over the phone._

_"I tried," Lila whined. "But you were in Aspen for a month!"_

_"True," Rhonda conceded. "But still, I simply can't believe it!"_

_"I know," Lila said sadly, crossing her legs on the bed. It was daytime and Arnold was at work, leaving her with the apartment to herself. "I never really had an issue with Helga. Yes, it bothered me that Arnold seemed ever so caught up in what was going on in her life in high school and yes, I know he felt guilty after the car accident since he's the one who hit Helga's car and pinned it against the other one, but I just…"_

_"This is unacceptable," Rhonda said indignantly. "I mean, being concerned for the girl, _sure. _But _hacking _into her _computer? _That is just not right,"_

_"I don't know what to do," Lila sighed. "He's been so distant lately and I'm afraid… Oh, Rhonda, I don't really want to say it,"_

_"If he's cheating on you, trust me he will have hell to pay," Rhonda said fiercely._

_"But I don't actually _know _if he has cheated or not," Lila said. "And I don't want him to know that I found out about him hacking into her computer. Not yet,"_

_Rhonda paused for a moment then chuckled. "I have the perfect idea,"_

_"What is it?"_

_"Let's put Arnold's faithfulness to the test, shall we?" Rhonda snickered and Lila furrowed her brow as she listened intently._

_"How can we do that?"_

_"Let me call my cousin Katie and see if she can come to town for an extended visit," Rhonda said. "I'm sure she'll have fun with this one. I'll be in touch," _

**[A/N: Oooooh! So what do you guys think? I'm gonna hold off for now on explaining too much just so you guys have the chance to try and connect the dots. I'm just giving you guys puzzle pieces here. If you have any questions, feel free to ask and I'll address them in my next author's note (if it was something I wasn't clear about) and/or as the story progresses.**

**So Stinky was in love with Lila? How are we feeling about the case of Marguerite? The relationship between Helga and Rich? It seems like he's 'passing her test' so to speak in terms of whether he'll get her heart or not. I'm really sorry if that scene with Lila's abduction was disturbing to anyone. I watch a lot of Law &amp; Order: SVU. If I need to change the rating/make it more vague, please let me know. And how about that last scene with Rhonda talking to Lila? Whaaaaat? :)**

Hope you enjoyed! Please review!]


	9. Chapter 8

**[Ahhh I'm so sorry I haven't updated in forever. The end of the semester was a bloodbath. It ended well but holy crap I was exhausted! I'm also sorry that this chapter isn't very long. I'm trying to get back into "the zone" and work my motivation and momentum back up. I have a lot of ideas laid out so I know what's going to happen but I've been having the hardest time getting motivated to do anything productive. Regardless, I hope you guys like this update and I'll try to get more updates out soon. In the meantime, please review and tell me what you think. Thanks!**

**D/C: I don't own Hey Arnold or any of the movie plotlines I am weaving together in this story.]**

**_Flashback – 4 Months Ago_**

_Lila had heard Arnold come in after she'd already gotten into bed for the night. She pretended to be asleep as she felt his weight jostle the bed and the warmth of his lips on her shoulder before he turned on his side, facing away from her. Lila stewed in her thoughts for a few moments before the bright light of her phone going off caught her eye. The ringer was off so there was no sound to disturb Arnold as Lila reached over and plucked her phone from the nightstand._

**_He did it._**

_Lila's heart sank into her stomach as she read Rhonda's text. She didn't have time to respond before Rhonda sent another._

**_Can you talk?_**

**_No._**

_Lila quickly replied. Getting up this soon would probably wake Arnold up and she'd rather him just believe she was asleep. _

**_Are you sure? Are you alright?_**

**_I'll be fine. At least I know now._**

**_He's an asshole, Lila. Say the word and I can make a few phone calls that make his life a living hell._**

_Lila paused, reading over that message, and a strange feeling swept across her. _

**_That won't be necessary. Thank you, though._**

_But Lila had her own ideas. How dare he treat her this way? And then crawl into bed as though it were any other night. She wasn't sure how yet but Arnold would regret this betrayal. She'd loved him – she'd actually loved him and for what? After everything she'd been through, it took a lot to be able to trust a man again. The last person she'd ever thought would hurt her in this way was Arnold but even the nicest guys could commit the most unforgivable of acts. If that was the case, she had no reason to trust them. She had no reason to hold back and give chances and reach out and pretend that she saw anything but evil when she looked into the eyes of a man. Not after what happened to her and not after this. Not anymore. Arnold had given her hope. Arnold had made her believe that a man could treat her right but that was a pathetic joke that she was the butt of. No more. No more being taken advantage of by men she should have been able to trust. No more pain and abuse and lies. No more "nice" Lila._

_Lila put her phone back on the nightstand and carefully rolled over so she was facing Arnold's sleeping form. She exhaled a deep breath, her eyes narrowed and a few salty tears escaped them as she fell asleep._

. . . . . . . .

**Present Day**

Dinner with Henry had been interesting to say the least. Helga and Rich had arrived at seven, as promised, and were greeted by a woman with tight curly hair.

"Hi Aunt Adrienne," Rich said politely.

She smirked at him, then her eyes turned to Helga as she opened the door wider and stepped aside so they could enter. "So you must be the one snooping around in family business,"

Helga whipped her head around to face the older woman. "Excuse me? I didn't ask to be here,"

Adrienne chuckled. "Of course you didn't, dear," She smiled as she closed the door. "Uncle William never let it go," She sighed as she led them through the house. The floors were old wood and the walls were paneled with old portraits and landscape paintings hanging from them. The two young adults followed Adrienne into an open area that functioned as the dining room and behind an island, Henry was moving a large serving bowl of potatoes to the table.

"Talking about Marguerite again?" Henry chuckled as he pulled oven mitts off of his hands.

Adrienne shrugged and walked past him and into the kitchen to retrieve the rest of the food.

"Why is this a problem?" Helga asked suspiciously and her eyebrow quirked when Henry began to laugh. Adrienne emerged with a serving tray of what looked to be some sort of pork dish.

"Oh, it's not," Adrienne chuckled as she put the tray down on the middle of the dining table. "It's just we've been through this so many times. Uncle Will has never given up but the rest of the family has preferred to mourn her disappearance in peace, you know?" She sighed, resting her arms against the back of one of the chairs as Henry brought a chilled bottle of wine to the table and began setting glasses at each of the places. "After all this time, the chance of finding her is slim and the rest of us, well… you understand, don't you?"

"I guess…" Helga said, still not convinced but willing to drop it.

"Don't you guys wonder though?" Rich asked curiously as he and Helga approached the table and sat down.

Uncle Henry poured wine into each of their glasses. "Wonder only opens wounds and keeps them from healing," He poured wine for himself and Adrienne then sat the bottle down on the table. "For most of us, we have already grieved Marguerite. Uncle Will's relentless search for her only brings more pain. I check in on him often to help with whatever he needs and each time it is the same conversation," He sighed. "It becomes exhausting."

Rich shrugged and Helga listened intently as she sipped the white wine in her glass.

"I guess I understand," Rich shrugged. "I don't see him as much but I know he must talk about it a lot,"

Adrienne chuckled. "That's an understatement," She sipped her wine. "But who knows, with such a skilled professional amongst us, maybe we'll learn something," Helga lifted her gaze at that and rolled her eyes, biting her lip.

"Perhaps," Henry said as he served himself some pork. "Have you two learned anything? Any clues?"

Helga and Rich looked at each other briefly and Helga silently begged him not to say anything.

"Not much," Rich shrugged, sticking a fork into the potatoes on his plate. "It's too soon to know,"

. . . . . . . .

**_Flashback – 2004 – The Summer Before Ninth Grade_**

_"I understand this is hard, Lila," The detective, a middle-aged brunette with a kind face, said as she stood beside Lila's hospital bed. Tears were streaming down her bruised face as her head lay back against the pillow and her auburn hair was disheveled. "Anything you can remember will help. Any distinguishing marks, smells, an accent…"_

_Lila's face was still significantly swollen but the nurses had wiped away much of the dried blood from her face. The detective waited patiently as Lila whimpered and her shoulders shook with each cry she tried to contain because moving her body made her hurt worse._

_She could see his face staring back at her, each detail permanently engraved into her brain though she willed herself to forget. His sadistic smile, the piercing coldness and hate in his eyes. She wanted to pretend this never happened. She wanted to go back to being as carefree as she'd been only yesterday. Sure, things hadn't been easy but from this point on, she knew nothing would ever be the same. _

_"I don't remember," Lila finally sputtered. "It hurts too much to talk,"_

_The detective bit her lip and sighed. "I'll let you get some rest and come back in the morning,"_

_Lila listened to the sound of the detectives footsteps across the room and the door being pulled closed behind her. She heaved a sigh that was peppered with cries, her breath catching at the pain that induced in her sides. She refused to move her legs because she didn't want to think about the pain between her legs. She wanted to deny as much of what happened as possible so that she might have a chance at getting past this. Still, she knew that would be impossible. He'd known her mother and a dark, sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach wondered if he'd been responsible for her mother's death._

_The detective's words from earlier spun around in Lila's head. The only reason she was probably alive was because somebody had happened to have been driving by and heard her screams. She learned they'd been parked on the shoulder of an infrequently used highway and the chances of someone driving past had been slim but she got lucky. Lucky. Was that really a word to describe her? Sure, she wasn't dead but lucky? _

_Whoever that guy had been, he scared off her attacker when he pulled over along the shoulder and interrupted everything. The man had climbed off of Lila, rolled her out of the truck and onto the pavement, hopped into the front seat and sped away. They'd gotten the tag number for the van but when they ran it, it registered to an elderly man a few towns away who'd reported his vehicle missing the day before. _

_Lila took a tentative breath, careful to avoid it hurting as much as possible. As she nestled her head against the pillow, she attempted to fall asleep even as tears soaked into the fabric._

_. . . . . . . ._

**Present Day**

Later that night Helga was sitting at a small wooden desk in her bedroom at the cottage. Rich was in the shower so she had a little bit of time to herself. She opened one of the drawers in the desk and pulled out a folder with an old newspaper clipping tucked away inside. Her donor list was still nestled in the drawer. She pulled the newspaper clipping out and heaved a deep sigh.

**SEVEN KILLED IN FATAL CRASH**

Beneath the headline were a few pictures of the deceased and their names.

_Maurice Loenstein. Cindy Loenstein. Jimmy Loenstein. Brianna Loenstein. Thomas Anderson. Maria Gutierrez. Arnold Shortman._

There wasn't a picture for Thomas or Arnold but Helga knew in her heart it had to have been her Arnold. She remembered seeing his grandpa's green Packard coming right at the crash she'd caused. He must not have been able to stop in time. It was her fault. It was her fault that one of the most amazing and kindhearted people she'd ever known was lost to this world forever.

Helga hung her head as her shoulders heaved and tears flooded her eyes almost immediately. She slammed a fist down on the desk and sobbed even harder.

_I'm trying, Arnold. _Helga pleaded in her head. _I'm so sorry and I'm trying. I'm trying to make up for what I've done. I caused this and I just… I'm so sorry._

She hadn't heard the shower turn off and was surprised at the sound of Rich's voice just outside her door.

"Helga, are you okay?"

Helga scrambled to shove the newspaper back into the folder and the folder back into the drawer just as Rich gently knocked at her slightly ajar door.

"Helga?" Rich said as he poked his head in the room. Helga had done her best to wipe away the tears but her pale face was still pink and splotchy from crying. "Helga, what's wrong? Are you alright?"

"Yeah," Helga's voice cracked but she quickly put up a front. "I'm fine,"

Rich wasn't buying it. "Helga, I—"

"Look, if I tell you I'm fine, I'm _fine," _She snapped, turning around in her chair to face him. "And if there _was_ something to talk about, I obviously don't want to! Capiche?"

Rich pursed his lips together and sighed, looking down at the floor between them. "Sorry,"

Hearing that tone in his voice immediately reminded her of the way she'd always snap at Arnold when he managed to see a crack in the veneer of toughness she put up and she back-peddled. "Wait, no, I'm sorry," She sighed. "But I really don't wanna talk about it," She emphasized.

"Okay," Rich said simply and a peculiar silence fell over them. Helga turned slightly away from him, the soft, warm light of the desk lamp casting a glow over that corner of the otherwise darkened room. Rich stood in the doorway, his silhouette illuminated by the hallway light but most of his features were indistinguishable. He was wearing a T-shirt and red plaid pajama pants. His hair was still wet and tousled and he wasn't wearing his glasses. He leaned against the doorframe and after several moments of pregnant silence he spoke. "You know, Helga," He said slowly and Helga remained silent, listening. "I… can I tell you something?"

"Sure," Helga said quietly, her gaze set on a particular corner of the desk.

"I… I really liked you in high school," He said quietly.

"You what?" Helga's head snapped around to face him which took Rich back for a second.

"I-I – god, I'm sorry," He stammered. "Terribly, terribly inappropriate," He muttered, then speaking louder, "I don't know why I said that. I just – hey, if you need to talk or anything, I'm here. To talk. I care… okay? Um… excuse me," He finally ducked out of the doorway and disappeared, leaving Helga stunned.

_"What?" _She murmured to herself incredulously. Leaning her elbows against the desk, Helga rubbed her face with her palms. Amidst the sorrow, regret and self-loathing she'd been feeling only five minutes ago, she now had confusion, surprise, and curiosity added to the mix and the combination left her emotionally exhausted. Rather than ask questions, think, or try to deal with anything, she turned the desk lamp off, shut the door, and crawled into bed.


	10. Chapter 9

**[Hey guys! Again, this chapter isn't long as I'd prefer BUT hey, I'm updating quickly right? Thanks so much for reading and to those who reviewed, you're awesome! I so appreciate the support and trust me, all of your questions and wants WILL be answered but we have a long road ahead of us :) I'm hoping you'll enjoy watching things unfold. Believe me, I am all about AXH but that doesn't mean I can't throw in some drama in the meantime, right? Hehe!**

**Anyway, please review and let me know what you think. If you're confused about anything, I'll try to explain it better in the next chapter and also, are the time descriptions clear? Present time, they're coming out of winter but there are a lot of flashbacks and I just want to make sure it's clear what happened when. If there's any way I can explain it better, let me know! **

**I hope you guys are liking the fic so far. I know it's pretty involved but I don't think you'll be disappointed when the pieces finally come together!]**

**Present Day**

Arnold left his lawyer's office still feeling concerned but slightly hopeful. Gerald, being the social networker he was, had made a few phone calls and found a lawyer that specialized in difficult criminal cases. He was an associate of one of the medical malpractice lawyers who worked out of Phoebe's hospital and he, luckily, was based out of Hillwood.

Arnold stuffed his hands into his pockets as he walked down the sidewalk back to Brainy's apartment. Today was a mild day that hinted at spring's impending resurgence. His lawyer, Calvin Montgomery, had advised Arnold that, given the amount of circumstantial evidence, the police were probably going to focus on him as a prime suspect at this point. However, they wouldn't be able to officially charge and arrest him until they found a body or a murder weapon. In the meantime, he'd talked to Arnold about making appearances on the news (since Rhonda had already opened the floodgates to paparazzi wondering about this missing girl and the strange circumstances surrounding her disappearance). Many people in town already knew Lila and thought highly of her so word spread quickly when the possibly of something happening to her became known. The idea was to keep the public opinion of Arnold high and to try and figure out alternative explanations for Lila's disappearance. While Arnold felt somewhat confident that most people (aside from their crazy neighbor, Jenny) knew Arnold was a good guy, he had no idea what could have happened to Lila or where she could be and knowing all that blood on the kitchen floor came from her left a heavy, sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Arnold finally got to the main entrance to Brainy's apartment building and walked inside.

"Hey," He said as he came in, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it up on one of the hooks by the door.

Brainy was lounging on the couch with his laptop in his lap. He hadn't gone in to work today because of a nasty cold which left him sounding like his younger self – wheezy and congested. "Hi," Came his nasally response.

Arnold walked over to the dining room table where he'd left his computer and sat down. He checked on Helga but her there didn't seem to be anything new saved to her computer and her desktop was empty.

"You need to get rid of that," Brainy called over in a strained voice. "If the police take your computer, they're gonna find out you've been hacking into Helga's and that's gonna incriminate you,"

Arnold sighed, "Yeah, I know,"

"I still think you should just talk to her," Brainy advised.

"I want to," Arnold said softly, turning around in his chair to face Brainy who was sitting on the other side of the room. "I just don't know what I'd say,"

"You need to let your guilt about what happened go," Brainy said, closing his laptop. "It's been years. Your wife is missing and might be dead-" Arnold flinched at that but Brainy continued, "—you're their one and only suspect and yet, here you are snooping into Helga Pataki's life. Don't you find that a bit odd?"

Arnold let out a deep sigh. "I guess," He shrugged.

"Whether you want to admit it or not, you have unfinished business with that woman and you need to deal with it," Brainy said.

"_Unfinished business?_" Arnold repeated with a chuckle.

"_Yes,"_ Brainy emphasized. "Unfinished business. Look at yourself! You just came home from a meeting with your _criminal defense lawyer _and the first thing you do is check on what Helga is doing!" He sat his laptop down next to him.

Arnold sighed. "Yeah, you're right,"

"I know you feel guilty because you crashed into her when the accident happened," Brainy said gently. "But you need to stop stalking her—" Arnold made an offended facial expression. "_Yes_, this is basically stalking. Trust me, I know. But you need to stop watching what she's doing from afar and trying to help her that way and just _talk to her_. Ask how she's doing. Let her know you're around. Let her know _you're sorry. _She deserves at least that much,"

"You're right," Arnold nodded solemnly and sighed. "You're right, I will,"

"And of course," Brainy added. "You need to cover your ass before the cops get a warrant to confiscate your computer,"

"Duly noted,"

. . . . . . . .

**_Flashback – The Summer Before Ninth Grade_**

_"Which way to Lila Sawyer's room, please?" Young Rhonda inquired at the nurse's station of the hospital._

_"Third door on your left past the water fountain, hun," An stout, older woman with greying hair replied. "Be prepared – she's not really talking to anyone,"_

_"I understand," Rhonda said politely, nodding. "Thank you," And with that she set off down the hallway. She approached Lila's door cautiously, peering in to see that the light was off and there was a TV hanging from the opposite wall that Lila seemed to be watching, or at least facing. Rhonda gently tapped on the doorframe. "Mind if I come in?"_

_Lila slowly moved, only turning her head but not completely so there was no eye contact. Rhonda took that as an invitation and entered._

_"My word," she gasped, her voice low, when she saw Lila's face. She'd thought that Lila would have healed more since the attack happened a few days prior but she looked just as gruesome as if it had happened an hour ago. Her face was clean and there was no fresh blood but everything was swollen and bruised to a deep shade of purple. _

_Lila pursed her lips, her gaze set as she turned back to the TV. Rhonda followed her gaze as she prepared her words._

_"So," She breathed, trying to bring her voice back up to its normal tone. "I'm sure you're wondering why I'm here?"_

_Lila didn't respond. Her eyes remained glassy and fixed on the TV and her breaths remained slow with a slight grimace as though that simple movement hurt a great deal._

_"I was actually talking to my mother last night," Rhonda continued, unfazed. "She told me something interesting about you… and about your mother,"_

_That got Lila's attention and she slowly turned her head to face Rhonda. The eye contact made Rhonda feel surprisingly comfortable. It was like she could feel Lila's pain simply by looking into her eyes and that made her uneasy. She averted her gaze momentarily to get her thoughts back on track._

_"What is it?" Lila prodded._

_"Well," Rhonda responded. "Apparently my mother and your mother were great friends when they were our age,"_

_Lila nodded thoughtfully, taking in this new piece of information. "Wow…" _

_"Yeah," Rhonda agreed. A quiet fell over them as both girls were not sure where to take the conversation next. "So," Rhonda broke the silence after a few moments. "Do they know anything yet about the creep who did this to you?"_

_Lila glowered and Rhonda thought in retrospect it might have been best to not comment on Lila's situation. "I'm sorry," she said. "I can um, I can leave you alone if you want?"_

_Lila's face softened and she sighed. "No, you can stay," Rhonda brightened and pulled a chair over to Lila's bed. "Did your mom tell you anything else about my mom? How did they know each other?"_

. . . . . . . .

**Present Day**

Helga and Rich had spent the last ten minutes digging through the rest of the boxes of Marguerite's belongings but they hadn't found much else that seemed hopeful. Over the past few days, Helga hadn't been quite sure how to feel around Rich. Since his abrupt confession the other night, she found herself wondering if the crush he'd mentioned hadn't quite ended after high school or if it was resurfacing at the very least. He'd mostly gone back to normal in terms of their interactions but something was a little off. He seemed to be giving her a bit more space than he had before and there was an indescribable awkwardness in the room when they were together.

They were sitting in the living area with several items from the boxes on the table in front of them. One of which was Marguerite's diary.

"What about these numbers?" Helga inquired thoughtfully after the two had been quiet for some time. "Do you have any idea what they're for?"

"Um, no," Rich replied, stirring from his thoughts. "Sorry,"

Helga studied the numbers. "What about phone extensions? Maybe they're extension numbers?"

Rich shrugged. "Maybe. But the police checked that, I think. Concordia University's extension starts with a 3 but when they dialed the numbers, the names didn't match,"

"Hmmph," Helga sighed, disappointed. Quiet fell over them again but this time, Helga stole glances at Rich. He was wearing a dark blue T-shirt with light grey sweatpants and his brown hair fell messily over the frames of his glasses. She was suddenly aware of how much she liked the scent of his cologne.

Rich read aloud, mostly to himself, which caused Helga to jump slightly and break her of her thoughts. "_Magda 30112; Sara 32016; BJ 32027; Li 31208; Mari 32018… _this has to mean something,"

Helga shrugged and Rich turned to look at her. "Hey um, I'm sorry if I made things awkward the other day," He admitted. "I don't know why I said that or what purpose it was supposed to serve,"

"I-It's fine," Helga responded and mentally cursed herself for stammering.

"I do want you to know, though," Rich said, looking at her with the utmost seriousness. "If anything is wrong or something's bothering you… if there's anything I can do to help, please let me know,"

Helga nodded. "There isn't anything you can do, but thanks,"

Rich inwardly sighed at that but accepted it. "Well, whatever it is," He quipped. "I'm sure it's no match for Ms. Helga G. Pataki,"

Helga scoffed. _That's where you're wrong, bucko._

"What?" Rich asked, noticing the dejected look on her face.

"Nothing," Helga replied quickly, shaking her head.

"No, I can tell it isn't 'nothing'," Rich said stubbornly. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No, just… forget it, alright?" Helga said, her voice small as she leaned forward and reached for a photo album. "Let's get back to work,"

"Wait, no," Rich said, reaching out and placing a hand on Helga's which, to her surprise, sent a jolt of electricity through her. "You're upset,"

"Look, can we move on, please?" Helga said and though she didn't cry, Rich noticed her eyes becoming glassier. She looked at him, half-knowing that in itself was a mistake. She saw the concerned look in his eyes and was still very aware that he hadn't let go of her hand yet. She all but completely lost it at that moment. How many times had Arnold looked at her with just such an expression and she always pushed him away? Telling him to leave her alone and to mind his own business when all she'd ever really wanted was to completely fall back into his comfort like a safety net. To allow someone to care about her and help her and see into the vulnerable, broken pieces of her and trust that person to try and help put them back together. She'd pushed Arnold away when he'd been one of the few people in her life willing and wanting to get close enough to help her and it was all in spite of herself because she'd wanted that connection so desperately. And as she sat on the couch with Rich, her hand in his and that same pleading, concerned expression being directed at her, she couldn't help but feel conflicted. On one hand, she felt guilty, as if by accepting Rich's compassion or anything more would be a betrayal of Arnold, yet on the other hand, she wondered if she'd be a complete, miserable fool to keep pushing people away. "I…" She finally spoke and Rich listened intently. "I don't deserve this,"

Rich quirked an eyebrow. "Deserve what?"

"This!" Helga exclaimed and this time her eyes started to water. "Your comfort and concern and you're holding my hand and all of _this!" _She pulled her hand away.

"Helga, if something is wrong, of course you deserve compassion," Rich said gently but Helga shook her head vehemently.

"No, I don't," She said sternly but her face began to crumple. "I don't,"

As the first tears began to fall from Helga's eyes, Rich immediately pulled her into a hug. The sudden feeling of someone's arms around her, holding her tight and in such a protective fashion, completely broke down the rest of Helga's defenses and she sobbed into his shoulder. She couldn't tell him what was wrong but maybe, for now, this was okay. As she began to calm down, Rich slowly pulled away to look her in the eyes.

"Don't think so little of yourself," Rich gently admonished, wiping a tear from Helga's cheek with his thumb. "Not many people would be willing to travel hours away from home to help an old man find his missing relative. You're quite exceptional and you deserve to feel that way,"

A few more tears fell when Helga heard that but she didn't argue. She let him hug her and wipe her tears and when he kissed her softly on the forehead, she didn't mind one bit.


	11. Chapter 10 Part 1

**[A/N: Hey guys! It's been SO long since I posted and I'm sorry! I've honestly had a hard time getting motivated to write :/ I have so many ideas and a lot of plot for this story but for some reason I just haven't had the energy or motivation to really put it out. I have a little something for you though. It's short but the only reason I'm posting it is because I'm working on writing more at this moment and just wanted to put out what I have so far. **

**D/C: I don't own Hey Arnold!]**

**_Flashback - 2004 - The Summer Before Ninth Grade  
_**

_She hadn't realized what she was doing, or what she'd done, until she woke up in a different hospital room. This one had less furniture than the one she'd been in before. She looked down at her wrists and noticed thick bandaging with the faintest hint of blood seeping from beneath the cloth. She lifted an arm only to find that both were secured to the bed frame. That's when she remembered._

_The dream. She couldn't escape the memory of that man's breath on her skin, his calloused hands groping her and forcing himself on her. Her heartbeat began to race at the thought of it and she groaned. _

_As she slowly regained her lucidity, she remembered stealing an instrument from one of the drawers in her previous room. Overcome by the haunting memory of her attack playing over and over in her head, Lila, having become desperate, had taken an unused scalpel and created a gash in her wrist. It hadn't been deep enough to cause serious harm but one of her nurses had been looking through the window from the hallway at the moment Lila pressed the blade to her skin. _

_She remembered crying and trying to get away from the nurse. Then there were more, maybe two other ones who'd come in to assist. Lila screamed, throwing a tray holding her juice box and empty pill cup at them as they cornered her. She wasn't supposed to be standing but she didn't care at that moment; she just had to get away._

_Then she remembered a sudden prick to her thigh and everything went dark._

_She felt groggy from the sedative but significantly more calm. She wasn't sure why she had done what she did and as she remembered each detail, she felt more self-conscious looking out this room's windows and seeing a few nurses keeping a watchful eye on her room. There was no door to this one so she felt exposed and vulnerable but the rational side of her understood why she was here. But she didn't want to be here. She wanted to go home but even that wouldn't save her from the incessant burden of her thoughts. She still hadn't told the police she remembered anything and she had no intention of doing so. In fact, she wanted to forget it all happened and escape the entire situation. But the sobering thought in the back of her mind, past the memories and the fear, was the idea that she wouldn't be able to escape. _

_. . . . . . . ._

**Present Day**

After their intimate moment last night, Helga wasn't sure how to act around Rich the following morning. She poured herself a bowl of cereal and sat in front of one of the windows looking out at the thick bands of tree surrounding the cottage. Winter was passing and the faintest hints of spring could be seen in the first buds popping up on the tree branches.

"Good morning," Rich said as he walked into the living area. He was wearing grey sweatpants and a black T-shirt, his dark hair tousled from sleep.

"Hey," she said quietly without turning around to look at him. She was so conflicted as to how she felt about him. Part of her was clearly signaling attraction but her demons brought her down, reminding her of her guilt over Arnold and her overall feelings of unworthiness. She had a reason to be here and hooking up with an old classmate was not it. Still, he made her feel like there could be some spark of a light in what had otherwise become her dark and dismal life. Sure, she'd experienced success in her work – that's what happens when you bury yourself in it and allow your job to consume every part of your soul because you're afraid of your thoughts when you aren't busy. You're afraid of the quiet and if everything were to stand still, you might remember.

She couldn't stop herself from remembering but she'd done her best to escape as best she could. And when she finally couldn't run anymore, she fell into the hole she was in now.

However, Rich was having an effect on her and a small part of her wondered if maybe she could heal. Maybe she could forgive herself and maybe she could be happy again. Maybe she didn't have to follow through with her plan and maybe she did want to live.

"My grandfather wants us to stop by this morning to update him," Rich said as he opened the fridge and retrieved a carton of orange juice. "Do you think you could be ready in about an hour?"

Helga, never turning her head, watched him cross over to the counter and grab a glass from the cabinet, her blonde hair shielding her gaze like a veil. "Yeah, no problem,"

Rich took a sip of his orange juice and leaned back against the counter. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm alright," Helga shrugged, chasing a piece of cereal around her bowl with her spoon. "You?"

Rich nodded, "I'm good," A moment passed and he sighed. "Well, I should go get dressed,"

Helga briefly looked up at him. "Okay, I will, too in a minute,"

Rich nodded at her and gulped down the last of his orange juice, setting the glass in the sink and walked back to his room.

Helga finished her cereal and put the bowl in the sink. On her way back to her own room, she stopped at the table to look over some of the photos she'd been going through the night before. There was a picture of Marguerite in the window of a house. The photo had been taken from far away so it was difficult to make out detail but Helga could identify her dark hair, thin frame, and a necklace with some sort of large stone or pendant hanging from it. William had said during their last conversation that this photo had been taken on the day of the Fourth of July parade and that, to his knowledge, it was the last photo taken of her before she disappeared.

. . . . . . . .

Rich and Helga met William in the office back at his estate. Ronald had been given the day off so William greeted Rich and Helga directly at the door.

"The weather is much improved, don't you agree?" He made small talk as he led the two back to his office.

"Definitely," Rich nodded. "And the snow's finally completely gone,"

Never big on small talk, Helga remained quiet as they entered the office.

"So," William said, gesturing to the chairs in front of his desk. "Please be comfortable. Have you come across anything interesting yet?" He looked to Helga.

"Well, we found Marguerite's diary and a bunch of numbers written inside but we aren't really sure what they're supposed to reference," Helga started. "And there's this picture I was wondering about," She said as she pulled a framed photo out of the messenger bag resting in her lap.

William put on his glasses and Helga handed the picture to him. "I remember her," He said softly. "She and Marguerite were very close – best friends. I believe her name was Brooke,"

Rich and Helga looked at each other. "Okay, that makes sense because she talked about someone named Brooke a few times in her diary,"

"Yes," William nodded, handing the picture back. "Our families did some business together and the girls spent a lot of time together at the country club. They would go horseback-riding together and Brooke attended a number of our family events,"

"Do you know her last name?" Helga inquired, carefully putting the picture back inside her messenger bag.

William's face contorted in thought. "Wellington. She was the daughter of Roger Wellington, I remember,"

Helga furrowed her brow for a moment; that name sounded oddly familiar.

"What about the names and numbers in the back of the journal?" Rich asked, unaware of Helga's deep concentration. "The police report said they didn't find anything but do you have any idea what they could mean? I know you've read the diary before,"

William shook his head. "I'm afraid I was as stumped as the police were," He sighed. "Marguerite could be a mystery sometimes. She largely kept to herself; she was quiet withdrawn at times and unless Brooke was around, Marguerite usually spent her time reading,"

"What did she read?" Rich asked.

"Oh, all sorts of genres," William said, clasping his hands together and resting them on his desktop. "She studied her scriptures quite regularly, though. Sandra was very strict about church attendance and Sunday school study. I suppose Marguerite took a similar interest,"

Rich nodded, soaking in that information but not sure what to do with it.

"What are your plans for the rest of today?" William asked and Helga was finally pulled away from her thoughts although not for long. She was still focused on Brooke – who she was and what importance she may have played.

"Uncle Henry invited us over for lunch today so we're going to stop by and talk to them for a while," Rich replied.

"Be careful, Rich," William urged. "I know they're family but I'm afraid I just don't trust them,"

"I'm sure it'll be fine," Rich said, taking little heed of his grandfather's warning.

"While you're out," William said, standing up and signaling their meeting was coming to a close. Helga stood slower than either of them, consumed by her thoughts. "You should stop by the local newspaper office and see if they have records of the photos taken that day. There are always a number of photographers on the day of the parade,"

"We'll do that," Rich nodded as William walked them out. "Thanks, Grandpa,"

Once they were outside, Rich was about to ask Helga why she'd been so quiet but before he could said anything, she practically shrieked.

"Holy crap!" She exclaimed and Rich's eyes widened.

"What?" He asked, bewildered.

"Dude," She said, a little more calmly. "Brooke! Do you realize who Brooke _is?_"

Rich thought for a moment but Helga didn't give him the chance to respond.

"I can't believe it didn't click sooner," Helga said, incredulous. "It's Rhonda's _mom!"_

Realization suddenly dawned on Rich and his eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Oh my god, you're right! How did I not make that connection before?"

"I don't know!" Helga exclaimed, still hyped up by the information. "But we've gotta talk to her,"

"Certainly," Rich agreed as the two made their way to Henry's house. "We'll try to call after lunch and see if she can tell us anything important,"

Following slightly behind Rich, Helga huffed. "If she's anything like her daughter, I'm sure she won't be forthcoming with helping,"

"She might," Rich reasoned. "Marguerite was supposedly her best friend, remember?"

"Meh," Helga shrugged.

**[A/N: So like I said, I'm working on the second half of this chapter as you read this so I'm HOPING to post that sometime later tonight/this weekend. Please bear with me! I have three jobs and I'm in grad school so you can probably understand why I have zero energy a lot of the time lol. Like I said, this chapter was short but I hope you still found it interesting. Please review and let me know what you think. I love to hear input and reactions and your feedback helps me to stay motivated!**

**On a side note, though:**

**Holy crap, Nickelodeon! I'm sure the whole internet is aware at this point but Nickelodeon has announced they're working to bring back old shows, including Hey Arnold, possibly in the form of "a special or a movie". CAN WE SAY 'JUNGLE MOVIE'?! Ahhhh, I'm so excited! Save The Jungle Movie! It's feeling real, you guys. But you know what else I would love? Seeing episodes leading up to the Jungle Movie. Like yeah, we had the Journal but I'd love to see some episodes set after Helga's movie confession and before the trip to San Lorenzo just to see more of the dynamic between Helga and Arnold now that Arnold is aware of Helga's secret. Wouldn't that be fun!?**

**Anyway, I've rambled enough. Back to writing! Take care and review! Toodles!]**


	12. Chapter 10 Part 2

**[A/N: Hi everyone! I made a promise and I stuck to it. Here is the next (and much longer!) part of chapter 10! I know it's kind of weird I broke them up the way I did. Honestly, I was just excited I'd written SOMETHING and wanted to get it out there. Also, in retrospect, this would've been a crazy long chapter if I'd kept Part 1 and Part 2 combined so, whatever no big deal!**

**Just to clear something up so there's no confusion. Helga and Rich have not had sex or anything close to it. Just wanna be clear about that! All that's happened so far is seeds of attraction growing! And of course, Rich admitted to past feelings and they had a sweet moment where he was comforting her and stuff but nothing more!**

**Anything else that's confusing that has been brought to my attention will be addressed either in author notes or in the story itself but I don't want to answer questions that would take away from parts of the story so if there's something I don't respond to yet, that means the answer is coming up! Bear with me. There's some thinking involved in this story and even I have had to read and re-read my notes SEVERAL times to make sure I'm keeping everything straight, haha. Hopefully in the end everything makes sense and you guys can say you've enjoyed the ride.**

**Okay, so, hold onto your hats because this chapter might be a doozy! Let me know what you think in the comments.]**

Helga was surprised when Henry led her and Rich into the house and several people she hadn't met yet were sitting or standing around the dining table. She recognized them from photographs, though. Rich's great uncle Maxwell was seated at the far end of the table across from Sandra, Marguerite's mother. Adrienne was there again as well as her sister, Natalie.

"Hi everyone," Rich greeted his family warmly but Helga could tell he felt tense in their unexpected presence.

"Hi sweetheart," Natalie walked over and gave Rich a smothering hug. "And you must be Helga," She turned to the blonde woman beside her nephew.

"In the flesh," Helga shrugged, smirking.

"Sorry I didn't let you know sooner that this would be a big lunch," Henry apologized.

"Well, dear," Sandra said in a dry voice that hinted at a lifetime of smoking. "It kind of fell together quickly,"

"Douglas was supposed to come, too but he's out hunting," Natalie said.

"I swear, that man should live in the woods," Sandra scoffed.

"Come sit down," Adrienne called from the other side of the table. There was already a nice spread set out – salad, finger sandwiches, and warm baked bread with a small tray of butter sitting next to it. "How have you been?" She asked, serving herself some salad as Helga and Rich got comfortable in their chairs.

"Fine," Helga shrugged but something caught her eye when Adrienne turned. She was wearing a necklace with a large amber stone and Helga immediately recognized it from Marguerite's photograph.

"How about you, Rich?" Natalie inquired. "Any symptoms?"

"Here and there," Rich answered uncomfortably and Helga could tell he didn't want to discuss his illness.

"You really shouldn't be out gallivanting on this wild goose chase in your condition," Sandra said haughtily, never even looking at him as she buttered a slice of bread.

Rich shrugged and Helga sat quietly observing, paying particular attention to Adrienne and wondering why she was wearing the same necklace Marguerite had been wearing on the day she went missing. Could she have had something to do with it?

"It's only feeding William's obsession," Maxwell said, his old hands shaky as he lifted one of the finger sandwiches to his mouth.

"I know, Max," Sandra said, then directed her comment back to Helga and Rich. "Rich, your grandfather is old and you're obviously weakened by your illness," Rich bit his lip at that comment to try and quell his embarrassment. Helga knew about his heart condition but he still didn't want everyone talking about him like he was pathetic and helpless. He certainly didn't want Helga thinking that.

"William has spent most of his life searching for my daughter," Sandra sighed, her voice still gruff. "How can anyone else move on when he won't let this go? It's selfish, I tell you," She shook her head.

"Yeah, I mean, the police never found anything," Adrienne said, taking a sip of water.

"Well, we're just trying to help," Rich said, trying to carefully defend he and Helga's actions since the consensus in the room seemed to be that they should give up. "We've got some ideas that might provide more information and even if they don't, it's important to my grandfather,"

"You're a sweet boy, Richard," Sandra sighed. "But if you want to help the family, you should move on from this and tend to yourself,"

. . . . . . . .

"Did you see what your aunt was wearing?" Helga asked once she and Rich were alone outside after lunch.

"No, what?" He replied as they started walking through the woods back to the cottage. His chest felt a little tight and he was tired but didn't want to appear so. Thankfully, Helga was walking at a pace he could manage and he fought through his lightheadedness.

"She's wearing the same necklace Marguerite was wearing in that picture!" Helga exclaimed in a hushed voice, looking over her shoulder to make sure no one had stepped outside of the house and could hear them or was watching. "On the day of the parade," She added.

Rich's brows lifted. "Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure," Helga nodded. They were getting close to the cottage. "What if she had something to do with Marguerite's disappearance?"

"Wow," Rich let out a breath. "You really think so?"

They walked up to the door of the cottage and Rich leaned against the doorframe.

"Are you okay?" Helga asked, switching gears and her concern for him obvious.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," Rich nodded. "That was just a lot of walking, I guess,"

Helga eyed him warily, not completely thrown off by his dismissal, but she continued, "Rich, what do you think happened to Marguerite?" She paused. "Do you think maybe she was murdered?"

Rich's brow furrowed in thought. "I really don't know,"

. . . . . . . .

**Present Day**

Arnold was working on one of the computers at work, installing updates to the anti-virus software, when he heard Detective Sullivan's voice behind him.

"Arnold Shortman," She said and Arnold turned around in his office chair to see two officers he didn't recognize accompanying her.

"Yeah?" He said curiously. "What's going on?"

"You're under arrest for the murder of your wife, Lila Shortman," Detective Sullivan said sternly as the officers handcuffed him.

"What?!" Arnold exclaimed. "No, what are you _talking _about?"

"We found the murder weapon," Sullivan said, her arms crossed over her chest. "You have the right to remain silent -,"

_"Murder weapon?!" _Arnold's voice came out like a squeak as the officers escorted him out of the office, his coworkers watching in shock. "Are you telling me Lila is _dead?_" He turned to Brainy who was sitting at one of the cubicles nearby, watching with concern.

"Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law," Sullivan continued with stating his Miranda rights. "You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed for you. Do you understand these rights as I have explained them to you?"

"I understand, but you're making a mistake!" Arnold exclaimed pitifully. "This can't be true,"

It couldn't be. They had to be wrong. It had to be a mistake. He may not have been in love with her anymore and they may have had their problems but he still cared about her and knew for a fact he had nothing to do with whatever had happened to her.

"When we searched your apartment, we found a little toolkit in the bedroom closet that had all of its pieces neatly tucked inside except for one thing – the hammer," Sullivan explained as the officers sat Arnold in the back of the patrol car outside at the curb. "We found it yesterday in the bags of trash we collected from the dumpster outside of your building. It'd been wiped clean but when we tested it, we found your wife's blood all over it,"

"_No_," Arnold whimpered, his voice breaking. It couldn't be true. He was horrified at the thought of something so terrible happening to Lila. No matter their relationship, he was a compassionate person and the thought of something so horrific happening to her made him feel sick to his stomach. The reality of what potentially happened to Lila and the magnitude of it all finally broke through Arnold's shock and confusion, leaving him feeling appalled and helpless.

"We'll talk more at the station," Sullivan said and shut the door before walking over to her own unmarked vehicle.

. . . . . . . .

**Present Day**

Later that day, Rich had decided to lie down and rest, leaving Helga alone for a while. As the day had progressed, the air outside had become unseasonably warm so she thought it might be nice to go for a run. She used to run all the time back in high school and in college she spent a semester on the rec soccer team. It had always been a great way to get her frustrations out or sort through her thoughts. It'd been a few years since she'd had the motivation to do anything athletic but she was starting to feel a little different, a little better.

Helga made her way through the woods on a dirt path that led all around the area. It felt weird to be running again but before long, she fell into a rhythm and it felt natural. She didn't even have to think about what her legs were doing – she was free, moving quickly through the woods and feeling lighter than she had in years.

She wanted to confront Adrienne about the necklace. What other reason could there be for her to have it? She was pretty sure it was the same one in Marguerite's photo and assuming she was right, could this mean that Adrienne had had something to do with Marguerite's disappearance? Could Marguerite be dead?

And she definitely wanted to talk to Brooke Wellington. Well, Brooke Wellington _Lloyd. _She wasn't really looking forward to that conversation. She and Rhonda hadn't really gotten along so she was apprehensive about what dealing with Rhonda's mom would be like but she had to do it. If Brooke was Marguerite's best friend, maybe she knew something. William said they spent a lot of time together; maybe she was with Marguerite at the parade and if Helga could nail down some sort of timeline, she'd be that much closer to figuring out what happened.

As Helga made her way through the woods, her feet pounding against the dirt and dodging tree roots, she didn't notice the sound of twigs cracking and branches being rustled. One particular snap did catch her attention though but before she could make sense of it, she heard a loud bang and suddenly her head had been struck. She fell to the ground, her forearms breaking her fall and avoiding her face hitting the dirt. Her head was throbbing and she felt dizzy. She looked around the best she could but didn't see anyone. Bruises were forming on her arms and she was sure she would feel them later but right now her head was the worst of it. Helga lifted a hand to the side of her head, gingerly feeling where the pain was and when she pulled her hand back, her fingertips were covered in blood.

_Shit_. Quickly double-checking that no one was around, Helga slowly stood up and hurried back to the house as fast as she could. She stumbled and the pain in her head was making her nauseated but adrenaline helped her to press on. When she finally got inside the cottage, she slammed the door shut behind her, locking it right away. She leaned back against the door trying to catch her breath as blood dripped down the side of her face.

Having heard the commotion, Rich came out of his room. "What's going – _what the hell – Helga!" _He hurried over to her, gathering her in his arms. "What happened?"

"I think someone shot me," She said, breathless. "I was out running and I heard a loud bang and then something hit me,"

Rich quickly examined the wound on the side of her head. There was a lot of blood but the wound was superficial and had only grazed her scalp. The sight of her blonde hair soaked in blood horrified him and he put an arm around her, guiding her to the bathroom. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up," He said. "Did you see who it was?"

Helga shook her head and immediately regretted it as it made her head hurt more. "No," She said pitifully. "Gah, my head is fucking killing me,"

Rich put the toilet lid down and guided her over to sit on it while he ran a washcloth under the sink. "Just relax, you're gonna be fine," He said, his own adrenaline rush slowly ebbing. He turned the water off and gently pressed the cloth to Helga's scalp, eliciting a yelp. "Sorry! Sorry!" He said, carefully dabbing the wound and cleaning away the drying blood. "It's already starting to stop bleeding on its own," He said quietly. "Do you want me to drive you anywhere?"

"No, I'll be fine," Helga said through clenched teeth. "Do you have any ibuprofen or something? Something to make it stop hurting?"

"I'll see what we have here in a minute," Rich said softly as he gently dabbed Helga's scalp. "I can't believe this happened. I'm terribly sorry," He moved the cloth to the side of her face and wiped away the dried blood.

"It wasn't your fault," She looked up and he caught her gaze. For that moment, he didn't think about anything but her. Seeing her hurt terrified him and he was so overcome with a need to protect her and care for her that he couldn't think of anything else. He pushed some stray hair away from her face, her eyes still watching him as he leaned in and left a gentle kiss on her lips. They were soft with a subtle chill from being outside. As the kiss continued, he dropped the washcloth on the sink's edge next to them and carefully cradled her head in his hand, avoiding her injury.

Helga wasn't thinking, only feeling. Everything about Rich and this moment felt good. He was warm and gentle and when he kissed her, it was like letting out a breath she'd been holding in for years. Even if it was just for a brief moment, the guilt was gone and the anger at herself was gone. She relaxed against his embrace and reciprocated his kiss before she could even think about it. After a couple moments, they parted but Rich rested his forehead against hers.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," He whispered and Helga felt a shudder go down her spine.

. . . . . . . .

**The Day of Lila's Disappearance**

It had been a long time since she'd taken a road trip and the drive reminded her of simpler times when she'd go on long car rides with her parents during the summer. The weather wasn't ideal since it was still pretty chilly outside but it was a bright, beautiful day and she was feeling exceedingly pleased with herself.

She had been driving for a couple hours now – her plan was to get far enough away from Hillwood that no one would recognize her. She'd stopped at the last rest stop and bought a box of hair dye, then went to the restroom and chopped her long auburn hair up to her shoulders and dyed it brown. The box had said it was supposed to come out darker but it ended up being kind of mousy. She'd always heard that red hair didn't dye as well as other hair colors but she could still tell the difference and that was what was important.

It wouldn't be long before Arnold would come home and find the apartment in disarray. She'd watched him leave the apartment that morning and once he turned the corner, she immediately went to work as she didn't have much time.

She flipped over the coffee table and glass shattered all over the floor. Some of the pictures sitting on the end tables next to the couch fell over and she had specifically set most back in their correct position. Then she went over to the window by the fire escape and used one of Arnold's snow boots to break through it, turning her face away as she did so to protect herself from any flying shards. Most of the glass fell out onto the fire escape so she carefully reached through the window and painstakingly brought several clumps inside, splaying them on the floor around the window.

Once the room was set, she needed to bleed. Over the past month she'd been volunteering at a veterinarian's office across town that Arnold didn't know about. She'd taken a couple needles and tubing from their supply to use for this. She had never been a fan of needles but she was on a trajectory that didn't allow for or care about squeamishness. She wanted Arnold to pay for what he'd put her through. She knew about how he had been hacking into Helga Pataki's computer. For what reason? She could never be sure. But when Rhonda enlisted her cousin Katie to seduce Arnold and it worked, that was the turning point. They'd been struggling in their marriage for a while but the realization that it was all a sham made Lila snap. She wanted revenge. Even if she had to suffer, she needed to show Arnold, and anyone else paying attention, that this wasn't okay. And in some twisted recess of her mind, she felt like she was metaphorically getting revenge on the man who'd attacked her so many years ago in doing this. She wasn't someone's toy to be played with and used and taken advantage of, then cast aside like some piece of garbage and she was going to make sure everyone knew that, even if she had to die trying.

So she came up with a plan. She made friends with one of their neighbors, Jenny Gilbert: a fiery woman, though she wasn't the brightest of individuals. Gaining Jenny's trust and affection hadn't been difficult – she'd spent so many years charming everyone around her that doing so, even deceitfully, came easily. She supplied fictionalized stories of Arnold's infidelity, exaggerating the details and hinting at abuse at home, feigning fear.

The tricky part had been the pregnancy test. She'd drained the toilet so that it couldn't flush and then invited the very pregnant Jenny over for lunch, supplying her guest with endless glasses of sweet tea until she was forced to use the bathroom. Since Jenny hadn't been able to flush the toilet, she'd told her not to worry about it and once alone, she collected the pee from the toilet tank in a urine sample container from the vet. One visit to her doctor and a pregnancy was officially part of her medical record.

It took a while to get enough blood to make the scene look realistic. She'd spent a couple hours with the needle in her arm, a tube connected at one end and pouring blood into a large bowl from the other. She knew Arnold's patterns and she knew she had time as he'd probably spend the better part of the morning just walking around and thinking. He'd always been a daydreamer, lost in his thoughts. She just needed him to stay out long enough for her to get everything ready.

Once she had enough blood, she dumped most of it out onto the kitchen floor, smearing it around and then sloppily cleaning it up with paper towels and bleach. She went into the closet in their bedroom and found a toolkit they'd bought at the hardware store shortly after getting married. She took the hammer out and returned the kit to the back of the closet before going back to the kitchen and dipping the end of the hammer in the bowl of blood. She wiped it off with one of the paper towels she'd used to clean up the floor, then put all of it in a bag. Once she'd gathered everything she needed for the road, she tossed the bag in the dumpster outside and got into her car.

She'd been writing in a diary for a while. She started off with entries dated early in their relationship. She talked about the good times they'd shared, her hope for their love to stay strong. But then she added the fake entries, documenting their downward spiral with overtones of abuse and fear. She'd hid it but she knew it would eventually be found and would only be more incriminating evidence against Arnold.

If she had thought anyone would treat her well, it would've been him. He'd always been so kind and honest. He was the perfect guy and if he could break her heart, break her trust, then there truly wasn't anyone worth putting faith in. So now he would pay for it in much the same way she wished she could've made her rapist pay. Maybe she was displacing her anger toward her attacker all those years ago onto Arnold but she didn't care. She wasn't thinking rationally anymore and was only guided by her anger. She was taking control of her life back, even if that meant being in control of her death. The cops would find the evidence she'd planted. They'd connect the dots and arrest Arnold for her murder. Then when the time was right, she'd swallow some pills and throw herself into the river, permanently sealing Arnold's fate for the murder of Lila Shortman.


	13. Chapter 11

**[A/N: Hey all! It's a miracle! I updated quickly! Can't guarantee I can update this frequently on a regular basis because of school BUT I will do my best this semester :) I'm hoping to actually finish the story soon haha. But we do have quite a bit of material to cover first.**

**Anyway! Let's continue on this mysterious journey!**

**Also, I edited the fic description to make it clear that I have taken the storylines of Gone Girl, Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, and Seven Pounds, mixed them together and added a sprinkle of my own style to create this hybrid. If it wasn't clear before, it is now! That being said, I don't own any of those movies, nor do I own Hey Arnold.**

**So without further ado, please enjoy! And review! :)]**

**Present Day**

The officers who had arrested him, followed by Detective Sullivan, escorted Arnold into an interrogation room once they arrived at the police station. It was a small, rectangular room with grey walls and the only furniture were a table and two chairs positioned across from one another. Arnold was instructed to sit in one of them and Detective Sullivan sat across from him while the two officers exited the room. There was a mirror behind him that Arnold had no doubt was a two-way mirror and that those officers, if not more people, would be watching from outside.

"So, Mr. Shortman," Sullivan breathed as she placed a folder and a small notebook on top of her side of the table. "Let's see if we can get this story straight, hmm?"

She opened the folder and began pulling out pictures of his living room on the day he called 911 as well as one of the hammer from their toolkit. He recognized the notebook and instantly remembered it was the same one he often had seen Lila writing in. He'd wondered what she was writing but never wanted to infringe on her privacy. That, and there were some times where he genuinely wasn't interested.

"I'm telling you, I didn't do anything to hurt Lila," Arnold pleaded calmly. "I would never," He paused, still stricken by the police's belief that Lila wasn't alive. "Are you sure she's… she's…"

"Dead?" Sullivan supplied bluntly. "We have reason to believe so, Arnold. Look at this," She pulled a photo out of the folder showing the large blood stain on their kitchen floor, lit up by the luminol test. "Look at all this blood she lost. You think she lost that peeling some damn potatoes?"

"No, of course not," Arnold replied, suppressing the frustration in his voice. "I-I just can't believe it," He stared at the picture, wide-eyed.

"Do you recognize this notebook?" Sullivan held it up and Arnold nodded. "This is your wife's diary, Arnold. Want me to read to you from her last entry?"

"Sure," Arnold replied.

"It's dated the night before you called us to report her missing. Quote, 'I confronted Arnold about the affair with Katie this afternoon. How could this man I loved for so many years betray me like this? We may have been having trouble but I never thought it would get to this point. He denied it at first but there was no way I could believe it. Rhonda is one of my closest friends and I know she didn't feel comfortable telling me that my husband was having an affair with her cousin –'"

Arnold's jaw dropped. "Her _cousin_?!" He exclaimed and suddenly all of Rhonda's snide comments seemed to make sense.

"Mr. Shortman –"

"No! I can't believe… and wait a minute, that never happened!" Arnold cried.

"You never had an affair?" Sullivan asked.

"I-I," Arnold grimaced. "I made a mistake. _Once. _But she didn't confront me the night before! I had no idea she even knew!"

"Let's continue, shall we?" Sullivan said, brushing him off. "It gets more interesting,"

"This is insane," Arnold breathed but the detective ignored him.

"'Once he realized I actually knew, he became angry. I've seen him upset, even mad, before but never like this. Maybe I shouldn't have pushed him to tell me the truth as hard as I did. He was trying to walk away from me but I wouldn't let him and that's when he hit me,'"

Arnold's eyed bulged but he fought the urge to yell out of anger or exasperation as that would only make him look worse.

"'I was so shocked and confused and upset. For the first time, I actually felt afraid of my husband of what he could do.'" Sullivan finished and closed the notebook.

"All of that is untrue," Arnold said simply, forcing himself to keep composure. "I don't know why she would say that but none of that happened, I swear," His face was fallen in a mixture of sadness and betrayal.

"Arnold, I'll be straight with you," Sullivan said, crossing her arms on the tabletop. "It doesn't look good. If you wanna do me the same courtesy and be straight with _me_, I might be able to help you out here," She shrugged. "Anything you're hiding or lying about, trust that we will find out about it,"

"I've told you the truth," Arnold said. "I'm not gonna talk about it anymore; I'm gonna wait for my lawyer,"

. . . . . . . .

**Present Day**

The following day, Helga and Rich went to the local newspaper office to see if they could find the collection of photos from the day Marguerite went missing. After Helga got shot yesterday, they'd both agreed that it would be best to spend the remainder of the day resting. Rich bandaged Helga's wound with gauze from a first aid kit under the bathroom sink and they'd spent the evening relaxing on the couch and watching TV. Helga was surprised at how comfortable Rich was able to make her feel, despite the circumstances. It'd been so long since she'd opened herself up to someone and while she was still somewhat guarded, she felt the most at ease she had in several years. He made he feel like she could relax and be happy, something she'd given up on long ago. No one had made her feel that way since Arnold and even though she felt guilty, she couldn't help enjoying it. To feel as though the weight that had been pressing down on her for years had finally lifted somewhat and she could breathe was a feeling she relished and greedily accepted.

"We must be extra careful after what happened yesterday," Rich said to Helga as they waited for the clerk who would be escorting them to the records room. The local paper's office was small but with multiple floors. There was a big front desk, behind which was a doorway the clerk had disappeared through moments ago to make sure the photo collection was still there. "I don't want anything to happen to you," He said, gently grazing the small of her back with his hand.

Helga fought down a blush at his touch, responding, "Do you think it was one of your family members?"

"Like Uncle Doug?" Rich turned to her, his dark brown eyes distracting her.

"Yeah," Helga said, staying on task. "I mean, your Aunt Natalie said he was out hunting. It doesn't take a genius to put two and two together,"

"True, but we don't know for sure if he was still out by then," Rich shrugged, weighing all options as best he could. "It _was_ a few hours later; for all we know, he could've gone home by then and it could've been someone else. Or it also could've been a freak accident,"

"Are you defending him?" Helga turned and glared.

"No," Rich shook his head. "I just want to make sure we're taking everything into consideration. If it was intentional, we need to be careful. If it was an accident, we still need to be careful because we don't know what else may be going on that we don't know about and if we start throwing out accusations, things could get worse before they get better,"

Helga huffed. "Whatever,"

"Sorry to keep you both waiting," The clerk, a man in his thirties with shaggy brown hair, suddenly appeared from the doorway behind the front desk. "Come on back,"

The clerk led Helga and Rich past the front desk and into the back of the building. They followed him down a small wooden staircase that led into the basement of the building with dozens of shelves, each containing several boxes of film.

"This is where we keep our older records," The clerk said as he guided them down a particular aisle. "There's a light board in the next aisle you can use to view the negatives," He said as he pulled down one of the boxes. "I believe this is the date you're looking for. Fourth of July, 1971, right?"

"Yeah," Rich nodded as Helga looked across the various boxes surrounding them. It was a good thing they kept the records organized because she couldn't imagine having to find this collection on her own.

"Then I think this is what you're looking for," The clerk said as he handed the box to Rich. "There's a computer with scanner and printer over by the light board in case you find anything you want to keep,"

"Sounds great," Rich said as he and Helga began to walk to the next aisle. "Thanks for letting us do this,"

"It's not a problem," The clerk shrugged. "At this point, it's public record," And with that he disappeared up the stairs, leaving Helga and Rich alone to sort through the photos.

The two of them spent the next couple hours sifting through dozens of film negatives, setting them on the light board so they could better see the images. The whole process became incredibly tedious rather quickly until Helga found a particular set of negatives that caught her eye.

"Rich, look at this," She said, squinting at the tiny image. "Do you see?"

Rich leaned over her shoulder, also squinting through his glasses. "Even with glasses, you're eyes are better than mine,"

"I think it's Marguerite," Helga said, turning around in the swivel chair and rolling over to the other side of the desk where the computer and scanner/printer sat. "Let's see," She murmured as she inserted the negatives strip and waited for it to scan. The process took a few minutes but once the images came up on the computer, there was no denying it was Marguerite. There were six images included on this strip and Helga separated them so they could view each one at a time. Rich stood behind her, hands on the back of her chair, as she clicked through the images in succession.

"Are you seeing what I'm seeing?" Helga asked, her eyes glued to the screen. As she clicked through the images, she could see Marguerite first looking at the parade, then turning to face the other side of the street, her face contorted with concern, before she quickly turned around and walked away from the street.

"Something scared her," Rich said thoughtfully.

"Or some_one_," Helga corrected. "I think whoever she was looking at could be the person who knows what happened to her,"

Rich hummed to himself and nodded. "I think you may be right…"

An eerie feeling washed over Helga and she got chills. "For all we know, Marguerite could be looking at her killer in these pictures," She breathed.

The two of them were silent for a moment, staring in awe and deep thought at the photos on the screen, until Rich broke their silence.

"Wait a minute, look at that," He said, pointing at the screen. "There's a couple behind her taking pictures in the same direction,"

Helga's eyebrows raised. "You're right," She said. "You think maybe they got some pictures of our guy?"

"Or girl," Rich added.

"Whatever," Helga rolled her eyes. "You get my point,"

"They could," Rich said, answering her question.

"Alright then," Helga said, leaning back in the chair. "We've gotta figure out who they are, find them, and see if they still have their pictures from this day. Then we'll see who's on the other side of the street and maybe figure out who was scaring Marguerite,"

"It's gonna be a long day," Rich breathed.

"Quit your whining," Helga snapped playfully over her shoulder.

"Oh, I'm not complaining," Rich said with a smirk and put his hand on her shoulder.

. . . . . . . .

It was late evening by the time Helga and Rich headed back to the cottage. They'd managed to find other pictures of the same couple in and around what appeared to be a company van marked 'Albertson &amp; Sons'. This was a local construction company based on the other side of the island and they decided they would check it out tomorrow.

The sun had already set by the time they got to the cottage and while the day's weather had been comfortable, a chill had fallen over the island once the sun went down.

Helga and Rich approached the front door and immediately Helga noticed something was off. The lock had been tampered with and she walked a bit faster, opening the door and flipping on the light.

"Someone's been here," Helga said as she and Rich surveyed the room. They'd left the boxes of Marguerite's belongings out in the living area as well as their contents and Helga could tell they'd been moved around. Several pictures that had been splayed across the table had been moved and Helga started to feel anxious.

"Where's the journal?" She asked.

"It's in my room," Rich answered, quickly dispelling at least some of Helga's anxiety. "I was looking at those names and numbers again last night trying to figure out what they could mean,"

Helga stalked into Rich's room and he followed on her heel. "It's in the side table drawer," He said and she yanked it open, retrieving the book.

"Okay," Rich said. "Someone doesn't want us to know something,"

"Doi," Helga said and Rich smirked.

"Haven't heard you say that in a while,"

Helga rolled her eyes but couldn't help a small grin. "Oh, grow up. Seriously though, we need to be careful,"

"Well, hold on," Rich said, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket. "Let me check and make sure it wasn't my grandpa or something,"

"Okay…" Helga said doubtfully and walked into the other room, opening up to the page with the names and numbers. "_Magda 30112; Sara 32016… Sara 32016_…" Helga murmured under her breath as she stared at the page before she was suddenly struck with a thought and her eyes bulged. "Oh shit!" She exclaimed. "Rich!"

Rich appeared from the hall, having just hung up the phone. "Grandpa wasn't here," He said as he slipped his cell phone back into his pocket. "I'll call Ronald first thing in the morning and ask him to have security cameras set up around the perimeter of the cottage,"

"That's great," Helga said though she was clearly consumed with her epiphany. "William said Marguerite was religious, right?"

"Yeah," Rich nodded curiously.

"Could these numbers be referencing bible verses?" She asked.

"Let me see," Rich said and Helga turned the book to him, waiting as he said the names and numbers to himself under his breath. "They might be,"

"What if she was leaving some sort of message?" Helga wondered aloud. "What if this is some kind of clue she left before she disappeared?"


	14. Chapter 12

**[A/N: Hey all! Time for another update! It may take me some time to get the next one out just because I've really gotta get my schoolwork done but since I already had the outline for this finished, I wanted to get it done this weekend. :) **

**Let me know what you think!]**

**Present Day**

The following day, after bail had been set, Arnold's lawyer bailed him out and was taking him home to await trial.

"You've gotta keep your head low," The lawyer, Larry Trexler, said. "At this point, the police have tunnel vision. They have no other leads except the cheating husband,"

"I've obviously been set up," Arnold said as he looked out the window, the buildings around them darkened with nightfall. "All that stuff in the diary and the things that neighbor was talking about – they're both full of lies!"

"_All _of it?" Larry gave Arnold a pointed look and he sighed shamefully.

"Not all of it," He replied, hanging his head. "But I never hurt Lila; I would _never. _And I had no idea she was… pregnant," Arnold said incredulously, still surprised by that fact and examining the word as if it was suspended in mid-air in front of him.

"Regardless," Larry said as he turned onto Arnold's street. "It doesn't look that way. So until we figure out the truth or at least a good angle to provide reasonable doubt, just try and stay low. Be careful who you trust,"

Arnold nodded, sighing.

. . . . . . . .

About an hour after Larry dropped Arnold off at his apartment, there was a knock on the door. Brainy was at work and Arnold got up off the couch to look through the peephole.

"Gerald!" Arnold exclaimed as he opened the door for his best friend. "What are you doing here?"

"Brainy called me when the police picked you up," Gerald replied, stepping into the apartment. "I had to come check on my brother from another mother," He grinned. "You look a lot better than I was expecting. No shitty jail tattoos, no one hangin' around you callin' you their bitch…"

"Really funny, Gerald," Arnold deadpanned and shut the door.

"I'm just tryin' to lighten the mood," Gerald said, then said more seriously, "Really though, how are you doing? I can't believe they picked you up, man,"

"I'm alright," Arnold shrugged and walked over to the couch to sit down. "Larry bailed me out,"

"That's good," Gerald nodded, following Arnold to the couch. "I'm glad he's got your back and don't worry about the retainer because my parents are taking care of it,"

"What?!" Arnold exclaimed, his mouth agape. "No, that's too – you can't be serious?"

"Arnold," Gerald said solemnly. "My parents consider you family. When I told them what was going on, they insisted. They already called him and told him to send all his bills to them. They've got your back, man,"

"That is so generous," Arnold breathed. "I-I don't know how to thank them…"

"Worry about that later," Gerald waved his hand in the air, dismissing the topic. "For now, you gotta worry about how you're getting your ass outta trouble,"

"You should've heard some of the things they were saying, Gerald," Arnold sighed, leaning back against the couch cushion. "Lila's been writing in some notebook making up stories about me hitting her,"

Gerald's eyes widened. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah," Arnold nodded. "And they found this hammer that was covered in her blood. It's all just so perfectly arranged that I _know _someone's setting me up. I just don't know who or why,"

"Arnold," Gerald deadpanned. "Now, you know that's bullshit,"

"What?"

"Number one; you know it was Lila. Why the hell would anyone do this? Number two; you cheated on her, Arnold! Yeah, I know it was only once and a mistake and you feel like shit about it but that's reason enough for an already loose screw to pop off!"

"What do you mean?" Arnold asked, his one eyebrow quirked.

"Don't even pretend you don't know Lila changed," Gerald shook his head. "Yeah, she was usually sweet and kind and she was like that when we were kids but she changed by the time we got to high school,"

"Yeah, and I found out why," Arnold said ruefully. "She was attacked and it was _really_ bad,"

"Whoa, really?" Gerald asked, surprised by this information.

"Yeah," Arnold nodded. "Someone threw her in the back of a van and-and…" Arnold paused, uncomfortable with the words. "They brutalized her. She was in the hospital for a while after that,"

"Shit," Gerald shook his head in disbelief. "I had no idea,"

"I didn't even know until after she disappeared," Arnold sighed.

"Why don't they think it was that guy?" Gerald wondered. "The same guy who attacked her before?"

"I guess I'm an easier choice," Arnold shrugged sadly. "They seem to think that was just some random thing, I guess,"

"Damn…" Gerald breathed and the two of them sat in silence for a while until Arnold couldn't take it anymore and decided to change the subject.

"So how is Phoebe?" Arnold asked. "Isn't she pretty far along now? I still can't believe you flew all the way over here,"

"She's doing good," Gerald nodded, feeling the relief of the lighter topic change. "Her mom's been staying with us for a while so she's with her now. When she and I found out you'd gotten arrested, she was encouraging me to come check on you anyway,"

"How long will you be in town?" Arnold inquired.

"The better part of a week," Gerald said then rolled his eyes, begrudgingly adding, "I'm staying with my parents,"

Arnold chuckled. "I'm sure they're glad to have you,"

"Yeah, it's alright," Gerald huffed but smiled.

The two friends hung out for a while longer before Gerald had to run some errands and go home. After he left, Arnold grabbed his laptop and settled back onto the couch with a cup of tea.

He'd wiped his computer several days prior in an attempt to protect himself if the police confiscated it so he had no connection with Helga's computer whatsoever. Theoretically, he could tap back into it – he obviously knew _how _but would that really be wise, considering how much trouble he was in? Probably not. Larry had told him to lay low, after all.

Still, he wondered how she was doing. And only a few moments later, he found himself feeling weird and self-conscious. It really was strange and creepy for him to spy on her like that. Never before had he ever thought he'd be so desperate to see how she's doing and make sure she was okay that he'd go to such a length as to hack into her computer. Then again, he'd never felt as shameful as he did the day he crashed into her car on the highway. Or as terrible as he felt every day she'd spent in that coma – the better part of a year. After that, he'd had no idea how he could face her – he felt so guilty – and with he and Lila having moved away, it just became more and more difficult to think of any other way to check on her and ease his guilt. By the time he got back in touch with Brainy and started working with computers, he was dying to find out how she was doing.

But he needed to either man up and call her or let it go. That would be the responsible thing to do and he knew that. But there was still part of him that knew how easy it would be to get on the computer and find her again.

. . . . . . . .

**Present Day**

"I really don't wanna do this…" Helga mumbled to herself as she searched through the online Hillwood phone directory for the Wellington-Lloyd house.

"She might have information that could really help us," Rich reminded her as he poured himself a cup of coffee. It was late afternoon and they'd spent the better part of the morning researching bible verses, trying to see if they could match something up with the names and numbers in Marguerite's journal.

"I know, I know," Helga replied grumpily, her phone pressed to her ear as she waited for someone to pick up. "Oh, hi! Is this Brooke Wellington-Lloyd?" She said in a forced polite voice when someone answered the phone.

"Yes it is," Brooke responded. "May I ask who's calling?"

"Oh, um," Helga stammered. She hadn't really thought about how she would word her questions. "I'm an old classmate of your daughters and I'm trying to help the Bauer family find a missing relative. I've been told you were friends with Marguerite Bauer?"

"I was…" Brooke said and Helga wished she could read her facial expression. Her response was so empty.

"William Bauer says the two of your spent a lot of time together and were very close," Helga continued. "I was wondering if you knew anything that could help us understand –"

"Are you accusing me, Ms. … I'm sorry, you never actually gave me your name," Brooke's voice was biting and suspicious.

"I'm sorry," Helga said, inwardly groaning. She had wanted to avoid telling Brooke who she was if she could. The more anonymity, the better. But she couldn't risk Brooke hanging up on her. "My name is Helga. Like I said, I went to school with Rhonda,"

Brooke was quiet for a moment.

"I'm not accusing you of anything," Helga said before Brooke could say anything. "We're just trying to figure out what happened. If we knew more about Marguerite and maybe anything she was worried about or afraid of –"

"I'm sorry," Brooke cut her off. "But I'm afraid I can't help you. I haven't seen or heard from Marguerite in several years and I would appreciate you not calling my house again,"

"Okay, but –"

"Thank you," And with that, Brooke hung up.

"Well, _that_ was helpful," Helga muttered as she put her phone down.

"I take it she didn't say much," Rich said as he walked over to the table where Helga was sitting.

"Not really," Helga said curtly. "Just that she hasn't heard from Marguerite in a long time and that I'm not welcome to call back anytime soon,"

"That's terribly, terribly unfortunate," Rich said, taking a sip of his coffee but he suddenly felt off and put the mug down on the table.

"Are you okay?" Helga asked, concerned as she saw Rich stumble slightly and his face pale. "What's going on?"

Rich furrowed his brow, bracing himself against the table. "Nothing," He said as Helga stood up, worried. "I'm fine, I'm just… just a little light-headed,"

"Do you need anything?" Helga asked. "What can I do?"

"I'll just sit down for a little while," Rich said, sliding into one of the table chairs and resting his arms on the tabletop. Helga sat back down next to him, one hand on his forearm.

"Are you sure you're okay?" She prodded.

Rich turned slightly and smiled at her. "I'm fine," His smile broadened into a grin. "You're worried about me,"

Helga rolled her eyes. "Don't get full of yourself, bucko,"

Rich chuckled. "It's okay," He said, slowly sitting up and leaning toward her. "I like it," He leaned in and gently brushed his lips against hers. "And I like you,"

Helga blushed and bit her lip in an attempt to stop herself from grinning like an idiot. "Yeah, I can tell,"

Rich sighed and smiled, leaning against the table once again. A moment passed before Helga spoke softly.

"I… like you,too," She said in almost a whisper. Rich wordlessly moved his arm and found her hand with his own, gently caressing the top of hers with his thumb.

"I know," He said and turned his head so that it was resting on his arm and he could face her. "You know, I was terrified when you got shot,"

"Minor flesh wound," Helga batted the air playfully, dismissing it.

"I'm serious," He said, punctuating his point with a gentle squeeze of her hand and she hushed. "I don't want anything to happen to you because you're helping my family. I would honestly understand if you wanted to back out. You've helped us find out so much more than we would've figured out on our own,"

"I told you I was gonna help and that's what I'm gonna do," Helga said, her brow furrowed in determination. "Helga G. Pataki doesn't half-ass her commitments,"

Rich smirked. "You're incredible. Just be careful,"

Helga breathed in deeply, surprised by how much she cared. Surprised by how much Rich meant to her and so quickly. She'd never expected to feel this way about someone else. When she was with him, it almost felt easy to forget about everything she'd been thinking and feeling and planning before. She could imagine herself being happy and feeling secure. She felt wanted and appreciated and needed.

In a burst of bravery, Helga leaned her forehead against Rich's shoulder. "You, too,"

. . . . . . . .

**Present Day**

Lila had finally settled at a motel in a very rural area one state west of Hillwood. The likelihood of anyone recognizing her so far away from home was slim but she still cultivated a disguise nonetheless. In addition to her new hair, she bought a pair of fake glasses and only wore T-shirts and baggy pants. The weather was progressively getting milder so she could get away with only wearing a light jacket. Lila chuckled, thinking about how much of a conniption Rhonda would be having if she could see how terribly she was dressed.

The motel room was tiny but it was cheap. Lila didn't have a lot of money on her but she figured she wouldn't need much since she planned to be dead in a few days. She just had to wait for the right moment. She'd heard about Arnold's arrest and release on bail on the news the night before. It wouldn't be long now.

Suddenly, Lila heard her cell phone go off and realized she'd forgotten to silence the ringer. She'd gotten countless missed calls and texts since she left Hillwood. She waited for the ringing to stop and when a notification popped up on her phone saying she had a voicemail, she went in to listen to it. She recognized the number and eagerly waited for someone to begin talking.

"Lila dear, it's Brooke, Rhonda's mom," Brooke sighed into the receiver. "Rhonda hasn't heard from you in several days and this may be in vain but I'm hoping they're wrong. I hope Arnold hasn't hurt you and that this is all some sort of misunderstanding. Lila sweetheart, I promised your mother I would always look out for you and I'm so sorry I haven't done as I promised. If you're out there somewhere, if you're listening to this message, you should know that someone is investigating your mother's disappearance. One of your old classmates – Helga, I think her name was. I didn't tell her anything but I fear their putting their noses where they don't belong will only make things worse. If the wrong people find out they're being tracked, it could be very dangerous for a lot of people, including you. I know you told everyone you didn't remember who hurt you as a child but I think… I think maybe you do and I think I know who it was… I don't want anything like that to happen again. I'm not sure what could happen but I just… I want you to be safe. If you're listening to this, if I'm not too late, please call us back and let us know you're alright. We love you, Lila."

The phone was silent, indicating the message was over and Lila took in a deep breath. Why was Helga asking questions about her mother? And if Brooke knew who had attacked her when she was younger, maybe that meant Lila could find them and get back at them for what they did to her. Maybe she was a fool, amped up on anger, vengefulness, and apathy toward her own life. Either way, she needed more time. She needed to figure things out. She needed to learn more. And she'd only be able to survive on the money she had for a couple more days, then she'd be living out of her car which wasn't the most reliable thing. She'd bought it for a couple hundred dollars from someone she'd met on Craigslist and there was no guarantee it would last much longer.

She thought for a little while and eventually she came up with a new plan. She would postpone her suicide just a little longer. First, she needed some time to find out what was going on. Brooke's message had intrigued her and she wanted more information.

There was a metal alarm clock sitting on the end table next to the bed. Lila walked over, picking it up and examining it as she walked to the bathroom. She spent a couple minutes looking long and hard at her reflection in the mirror. If she was going to sell her story, it needed to be believable.

She removed her fake glasses and lifted her arm, alarm clock in hand. With one swift motion she brought her arm back, hitting herself in the eye with the clock as hard as she could.

. . . . . . . .

**Present Day**

Later that evening, Rich had been feeling better and so he'd offered to make dinner. While he was in the kitchen preparing, Helga had opted to take a bath. After everything that had been going on and their tireless research, she certainly deserved some time to relax.

Helga sank down into the bathtub, the warm water instantly soothing every ache in her body and she leaned her head back against the edge, sighing deeply.

It was hard to make sense of everything that had happened in such a short period of time. To be so depressed and ready to end her life in a self-sacrificial atonement for the accident she caused and then find herself blushing and happy with someone she'd never imagined herself being with? It was surreal and part of her still felt guilty for it but it was hard to feel bad when Rich was around her. He made her feel light and warm, like everything was going to be alright. Even when she was scared because someone obviously didn't want them digging into Marguerite's disappearance, somehow she felt okay knowing that Rich was with her. It was like some sort of romantic action movie that the two of them were starring in and even when everything went down, they'd find a way to overcome it together.

Helga could smell dinner cooking and her mouth watered slightly. She hadn't eaten in several hours and Rich was so sweet to make a meal for them.

Suddenly, a loud _thud _came from the other room and Helga's heart rate jumped. "_Rich?_" She called from the tub. "Are you okay out there?"

When she didn't get an answer, she quickly jumped out of the tub and wrapped a towel around herself, her feet tracking water across the floor.

"Rich?" She called, walking out into the hallway and toward the living area. "Rich, are you – _Rich!_"

Rich was lying in a heap on the floor in the kitchen area. Potatoes were still sizzling in the pan and vegetables had yet to come to a boil.

"No, no, no, no!" Helga repeated, her voice breaking as she rushed over to his side. "Rich, wake up!" He was still breathing but unresponsive.

Helga jumped up and grabbed her cell phone from the table, dialing 9-1-1 and fighting to keep her composure. "Yes, I need an ambulance," She said. "My… my friend has collapsed and I don't know why. He's still breathing but he has a heart condition. Please _hurry!_"

Once the ambulance was on its way, Helga dropped her phone back on the table and fell to her knees next to Rich. "Please be okay," She said, tears brimming in her eyes as her voice broke. "_Please_,"

**[A/N: Hey guys, I was thinking about something. I know this fic is super unusual and the characters are going through a lot of crap but I wanted to ask, do you think they're still in character? Obviously, they will behave differently and be affected by the crazy things that have happened but I just want to make sure I'm maintaining the essence of who they are deep down while incorporating the drama. Let me know what you think! I love hearing your thoughts, predictions, questions, etc.]**


	15. Chapter 13

**[A/N: Hi all! SCHOOL IS CRAZY. But, I had a few hours of inspiration and motivation and FINALLY pumped something out. This is *one* of the climaxes of the story so I hope you enjoy and I hope it brings a lot of questions to light! If you're still confused by anything, let me know in the reviews and I'll explain in my next author's note.**

**ALSO: Just a warning, this chapter will get intense regarding topics of depression, suicide, etc. **

**D/C: I don't own ANYTHING :)]**

**Present Day**

It was late in the evening when Lila showed up at his house. She'd called him only a couple hours prior and begged him to let her come by, insisting on his silence and promising to give him more information once she got there. He'd moved to the area after high school because he thought he belonged in a more rural area. Lila drove up a long driveway to the old farmhouse. There were no streetlights sans the one off the main road so with nightfall, the fields were cloaked in darkness. She parked close to the house, gave her clothes and hair a tousle to give off a disheveled appearance, and walked up to the front door.

The screen door didn't close all the way and the main door needed a new coat of paint. Lila knocked twice, looking around her suspiciously as she stood waiting on the porch. The light from the porch lamp, even though it was dim, made her nervous that someone could see her but she might not be able to see them as she looked out into the distance where the fields seemed endless. She was pulled out of her thoughts when the front door opened.

"Ms. Lila," Stinky's drawl welcomed her and he opened the screen door. "I – What in the heck?!" He exclaimed when he saw her face and the dark purple bruise surrounding her eye.

"Hi Stinky," Lila said in her most pitiful voice.

Stinky stepped aside and ushered her in. "Please, come in…" He said, holding the door open. "Do you have any bags?"

Lila stepped past him into the foyer. "They're in the car; don't worry about them for now,"

"Okay," Stinky said, closing the door behind them. "Wh-what happened to you, Lila?"

Lila opened her mouth as if to speak but faltered and began to cry.

"Oh –" Stinky said, awkwardly moving toward her and patting her on the back. "Please don't cry,"

Lila gathered herself and breathed in deeply. "It's okay, Stinky. It's just hard to accept the truth,"

"I understand," He nodded solemnly and invited her into the living room. "Please, come sit,"

Lila followed him into the living area and sat down on an old plaid couch.

"I can't believe he'd do this to ya," Stinky said, still staring at her in disbelief and shaking his head. "It just don't seem like Arnold,"

"I never expected it either," Lila whimpered, looking around, and Stinky immediately grabbed a box of tissues from under the coffee table and handed it to her. "Things were ever so wonderful for so long and then…" She dabbed her eyes with a tissue. "Everything changed," She started to cry and Stinky sat down next to her on the couch.

"You can stay here as long as ya like," Stinky assured her. "I don't have much but I reckon a safe place to sleep and food to eat is the best I can offer ya,"

Lila stopped crying and looked up at him, smiling through bleary eyes. "You've always been ever so sweet, Stinky," She said, gently laying her hand over his.

There was a part of her that felt bad for lying to Stinky but she couldn't let herself be distracted. She had more important things to tend to and coming to stay with Stinky was only a small part of her plan. Now that she was secure and didn't need to worry about where she was going to stay, she could figure out what she was going to do next. She needed to get in contact with Brooke and get more information. Only then could she make a move.

. . . . . . . .

**Present Day**

Helga hated hospitals. The offensive bleach smell that made her nose itch, the looming air of fear and sadness that wafted through the halls and clutched at the throats of visitors, the bright, sterile lights; It brought back memories she wished she didn't have. She pushed away thoughts of her being in the hospital for months, the flashes of memories of everyone involved in the car wreck plaguing her mind every time she closed her eyes, even to blink. The only reason it wasn't completely consuming her was her concern for Rich.

She'd been waiting for an hour, pacing back and forth in one of the waiting rooms, since they got to the hospital on the main land. William and his butler were on their way and Helga had been too afraid to try and contact any of the other family members so she left that to William's discretion.

Her brow was furrowed and she periodically noticed she was gritting her teeth together. She'd consciously stop doing so only to notice a few minutes later that she'd unconsciously started grinding them together again. There was a rerun of some talk show playing on the TV overhead and most of the people in the waiting room were either dozing, watching the TV, or just sitting quietly. It seemed almost taboo to speak at a normal volume in a hospital waiting room so those who were chatting where doing so in mere whispers.

"Helga," William, accompanied by Ronald, finally made it to the hospital. Helga had never seen the elderly man walk as fast as he did when he entered the waiting area. "How is he? What happened?"

"I don't know!" Helga, who'd been silent for the last hour, exclaimed in a voice louder than she intended or expected. "They haven't told me anything," She said, forcing her voice to settle.

William went up to the desk and spoke with one of the nurses, then returned to where Helga was standing. "It's his heart," He grimaced. "I shouldn't have put such strain on the boy,"

"Is he gonna be alright?" Helga asked urgently, her arms folded over her chest. "What happened?"

"She couldn't tell me much more than that," William shrugged and Ronald guided him over to one of the cushioned seats. Helga followed. "His heart is getting weaker; we knew that already. The nurse said a doctor would come out and talk to us soon,"

Helga grumbled to herself and tried to remain patient as they sat in silence, waiting. Though it felt like another hour had passed, a doctor came over to them a few minutes later.

"Mr. Bauer?" The doctor directed to William.

"Yes?" William responded, slowly standing up. "How's my grandson?"

"My name is Dr. Roberts," the doctor introduced himself. "Are you the only family?"

"For now," William nodded. "His parents are out of the country at the moment but some other relatives are on their way,"

"Okay," Dr. Roberts nodded thoughtfully, his voice gentle. "Your grandson's condition is critical. We've managed to stabilize him but it's touch and go,"

"Can we see him?" William inquired and Dr. Roberts ushered them to follow him.

"His heart is having difficulty pumping blood," Dr. Roberts explained. "That's why he passed out at home. We're doing everything we can but he's going to need a heart very soon,"

William pursed his lip and nodded his understanding. Helga's breath hitched in her throat but she furrowed her brow and forced her face into a scowl to keep her composure.

The four of them were rounding a corner when they heard monitors beeping and a commotion of doctors and nurses rush into one of the rooms. Dr. Roberts picked up his step and jogged after them. William, Ronald, and Helga followed and realized it was Rich's room and he was coding. They watched from the window as doctors and nurses surrounded him, yelling out orders and readying instruments, checking the vitals monitor and opening the front of his hospital gown.

Helga couldn't watch when they shocked Rich's heart back into rhythm. Being able to hear it was enough to traumatize her. If it wasn't already heartbreaking to be in a hospital again, seeing someone she'd actually grown to really care for in such a dire situation was almost too much for her to handle.

Once they got Rich's heart going again, everyone in the room visibly settled. William was stoic despite a few tears that had escaped and slid down his cheeks. He breathed a deep sigh of relief but there was still pain in his face.

"I'm sorry," Dr. Roberts said when he came back out. "If you guys still want to visit, you can but it needs to be brief,"

William nodded and started to enter the room once the other doctors and nurses filed out. Helga, however, held back. "Are you coming?" William inquired, confused.

Helga shook her head. She couldn't go in there. She couldn't see him like that. She could barely bring her gaze up to look at him directly through the window. "I-I can't," Her voice came out broken, soft. William pursed his lips and nodded, then turned around and walked over to his grandson's bed.

Feeling the impending onslaught of tears, Helga backed away from the hospital room and eventually began to run through the halls, past the waiting area, and back out into the parking lot. She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket to call a cab, then sat on a bench far away from the emergency room entrance and waited.

In the quiet outside, she couldn't escape her thoughts. Rich was dying and she felt so helpless, terrified of being alone again. He'd awakened something in her that she'd thought had died – a sense of purpose, a sense of belonging. Happiness. Affection. And she was about to lose all of that all over again. Her heart felt heavy and she heaved a sob, doubling over herself on the bench and crying into her knees, her shoulders shaking. How could she go through this again? He was the first person since Arnold who had lifted her out of the shallow, grey puddle of her life. Despite the danger and the fear that came along with their investigation into Marguerite's disappearance, she'd been happy. She enjoyed being with him and saw in him a similar light she'd once seen in Arnold.

_Arnold…_

The only reason she was here right now, the only reason she was back in touch with Rich and investigating Marguerite was because of Arnold and the accident Helga caused.

"_I'm so sorry," _Helga whimpered to herself between cries. She wasn't sure if she was apologizing to Arnold or to Rich or to herself at this point. She felt completely broken and lost and once again, alone. She didn't want to reach out, she didn't want to talk to anyone. She felt like she was closing in on herself and the only thing that kept repeating in her mind was the reminder of why she was here in the first place. She came to help with the investigation, yes, but ultimately, it was to give Rich her heart.

_He needs it now more than ever… _Helga thought darkly, her entire body fatigued with anguish. This was the plan. It'd been the plan all along, even if she'd forgotten for a while. Even if she'd begun to imagine herself being happy with Rich. Even if part of her had begun to forgive herself for the accident, this was why she was here. And this is what she had to do.

. . . . . . . .

**Present Day**

It was late at night and all the lights in the apartment were off sans a small lamp on the table by Arnold as he sat on the couch, laptop in his lap. Brainy was in his room, asleep, and the last thing Arnold wanted was to wake him and give him a reason to come out to the living room.

Arnold had resisted the temptation for a while but something compelled him to hack back into Helga's computer tonight. He rationalized his behavior by reminding himself he was just trying to help and told himself he would finally call her in the morning. He couldn't explain what made him feel the need to check on her tonight but his grandpa had always told him to "follow his instincts". This counted, right? Were these the types of instincts Grandpa had meant? Arnold couldn't be sure but it didn't take him long to get back to Helga's desktop.

Arnold pulled up Helga's email and skimmed through the subject headings, first clicking on the ones she'd emailed to herself. Each one was a collection of photos and Arnold pondered as to why Helga would have several black and white photos from what looked to be a parade a long time ago.

_"What have you been doing?" _Arnold murmured, wondering aloud as he clicked through the photos, his curiosity highly piqued.

Suddenly, the window closed and the cursor started to move. Helga had gotten on her laptop and now Arnold was watching her every move. He thought about closing the laptop out of respect. Somehow it felt different to spy on what she'd _done _and what she'd _been _looking at rather than what she was _doing _and _currently_ looking at. Still, he watched.

She opened a new document and began to write.

_To whoever finds this:_

_Please tell Phoebe I miss her and that I'm sorry I've avoided her for so long. Just the idea of spending time with people I used to be with all the time and who knew about the accident was painful. I shut everyone out, even people who just wanted to help and I'm so sorry. But I'm not sure if anything would've been different if I hadn't. _

_Big Bob and Miriam, you put me through hell growing up but it was nothing compared to the hell I've put myself through. I'm sorry I couldn't be the daughter you wanted and I'm sorry I never lived up to whatever potential you thought I should have. And Olga, as much as you've driven me crazy, I want you to know how much it meant to have you with me through all of my physical therapy. You helped me to heal, even if it was just physically._

_I've thought about this for a long time now, ever since the accident. If I hadn't been texting, if I hadn't been distracted, it never would've happened. It's my fault that seven people died that day, one of which meant more to me than he ever knew, and I honestly never deserved to wake up out of that coma. _

_So I've been trying to make up for it, to atone for my sins, if you will. Seven people, seven good deeds. My inspiration, of course, being Arnold. He always told me to do the right thing… I've tried. Even if it wasn't enough. _

Arnold read through the note in disbelief. _He _was her inspiration? And god, the guilt she was grappling with! By the way she was writing, she sounded consumed by it. But why was _he _her inspiration? They hadn't talked in years.

As Helga continued to type, Arnold did a quick internet search.

**_Hillwood car crash Summer 2008_**

He clicked the first article that popped up, reading through in the hope of finding some sort of clue that would explain why she was talking about him this way. That's when a sinking realization washed over him.

_"No way…" _Arnold murmured in disbelief as he read, then went back and checked the other articles that had popped up. _"She can't think that I…"_

Each of the articles contained the name of the people who'd died in the crash. They only listed the people who'd died, not the people who'd only been injured.

_Maurice Loenstein, Cindy Loenstein, Jimmy Loenstein, Brianna Loenstein, Thomas Anderson, Maria Gutierrez, Arnold Shortman._

_"No, no, no…" _Arnold murmured in realization. "_This isn't good…" _The only pictures included in the articles were of the Loenstein family and Maria Gutierrez. There must have been some kind of mistake! Maybe someone misidentified the body and gave Arnold's name, since he'd been injured in the accident, instead of the name of the man who actually died. Someone made a mistake! Unless there was another Arnold Shortman traveling through Hillwood that day but regardless, Helga thought it was him! _"She thinks I'm dead, she thinks she killed me!" _Arnold exclaimed and quickly clicked back to Helga's desktop. She'd written more and a quick skim left Arnold feeling panicked. He quickly tracked her IP address and searched her email in the hope of finding out where she was.

Arnold grabbed his keys and wallet, secured his cell phone in his pocket and bolted out the door.

_"God, I hope I'm not too late," _Arnold said to himself as he jumped in his car and sped off toward the airport.

. . . . . . . .

"Hello?" Brooke answered the phone and Lila leaned against the payphone pole. She'd walked about a mile away from Stinky's house, much to his chagrin, to find a payphone and talk to Brooke in private.

"It's me," Lila said softly.

"Lila?" Brooke exclaimed. "Oh god, honey, you're alive! Where _are _you? Rhonda and I have been so worried…"

"I'm okay," Lila said reassuringly. "I would've told Rhonda if I had thought it was safe but I didn't have the chance. In your voicemail, you said something about possibly knowing who attacked me? And that Helga Pataki is –"

"Lila, where _are _you?" Brooke interrupted, clearly still on the first topic. "Rhonda told me that Arnold was cheating on you but she hasn't heard from you since you disappeared. Do you know how worried we've been?"

"I know, I'm sorry," Lila sighed. "I just… I had to get away. Things got bad between Arnold and I and I… I didn't feel safe anymore," She summoned the same whimpering voice she used when talking to Stinky. "I was afraid,"

"Oh, dear," Brooke cooed. "It's alright. Oh – wait, Rhonda wants the phone for a moment –"

"Lila!" Rhonda exclaimed into the phone. "Don't you _EVER _scare me like this again!"

"I'm sorry!" Lila replied. "I didn't realize how upset the two of you would get…" She sighed, suddenly feeling guilty for her secrets and lies.

"Lila, we've been best friends for _most _of our lives! How could you expect me to not be upset?" Rhonda exclaimed, a bit softer this time. "I helped you figure out that Arnold was cheating and you told me you wanted to get back at him but you never told me how! And then you disappeared and I thought, 'Oh, she's just fucking with his head' but then you never came back and Arnold was arrested and they found your blood everywhere and _goddammit, what the hell, Lila?!_" At this point, Rhonda was all but in complete hysterics.

"I'm sorry!" Lila cried. "I'm sorry, I never… I just…" She heaved a deep sigh. "I never wanted to hurt the two of you. You've been my only family, besides my father, but I just needed to…"

"Needed to _what, Lila?" _Rhonda demanded.

Lila groaned. "I can't – I just… I can't explain it to you… not right now,"

Rhonda was silent and Lila could imagine she was seething.

"I'm sorry," Lila said gently. "But I really need to talk to your mom again," The other line was silent and Lila added, "Please,"

Rhonda huffed and passed the phone over to her mom. "Lila?"

"Hi," Lila said quietly.

Brooke sighed. "She's been very upset. But what did you want to ask me about, hun?"

. . . . . . . .

**Present Day**

Helga skimmed over her note, reviewing the last few bits to make sure they were right. She needed to be clear.

_Please find Phyllis Carson in Hillwood and give her my liver. She has cirrhosis and she deserves a second chance. She works for the Klondike Meat Company and she's a good, patient person. _

_And please give my heart to Richard Bauer. He's currently at Concordia General Hospital and he's dying of congenital heart failure. He's reminded me of Arnold in so many ways and maybe if my heart can save him, then I can finally be at peace. My second chance is giving him a second chance. _

_I'm sorry I couldn't be a better friend or daughter… I care very deeply about the people in my life, even those I've shut out. I've always felt things more strongly than people realized. I've cared more than I ever let on and after everything that's happened, this is the only way I can think to show it now. _

Once the note was written and in plain view on her laptop, which she placed on the table in the main living area, she went to work figuring out how and where she would do this.

There were strong beams across the ceiling of the living room. She stood up on a chair to pull on them, testing their strength. She thought about doing something with the bathtub and cold water to try and preserve her organs but none of her ideas were viable.

When she'd finally weighed all of her options and settled on a plan, she sat on the chair in the living area for a few moments. At this point, she was so overwhelmed by her despair and a renewed flood of guilt that she was completely dissociated. Nothing seemed real anymore except for the pain in her heart and the hope that Rich could be okay. Everything she'd managed to either forget about or try to put behind her had come rushing back with vengeance and now the only thing she could feel, the only thing she could think about were her pain and her guilt. She had to do something and she was so desperate. She couldn't think clearly anymore.

It was well after midnight now and Helga went outside to the side of the cottage. The outside light clicked on, giving her a narrow path of light over to the hose attached to the side of the building. She disconnected it from the water source and dragged it inside. It was rather long but she didn't have many options.

She picked up her cell phone from the table and dialed 9-1-1.

"9-1-1, what is your emergency?" The operator said as soon as the line connected.

Helga heaved a deep but quiet breath. "I'd like to report a suicide,"

"Who is the victim?" The operator inquired.

Helga paused, her eyes brimming with tears. "Me,"

With that, she ended the call and climbed up on the chair. She tied one end of the hose to a beam above her head, the rest of its length falling down to the floor. Then she fashioned a noose and without allowing herself to think about what she was doing, slipped it over her head. And with that same reckless and desperate avoidance of thought, she kicked the chair out from under her.

**[A/N: I edited the last bit because I realized I forgot to add the phone call part! Very important lol, oops. Let me know what you thought! I know it's quite a bit to digest lol. Thanks for reading!]**


	16. Chapter 14

**[A/N: Hey guys! Things have been a bit hectic here lately. My great grandmother passed away last week and we had the funeral to take care of and stuff... that plus school and work make it difficult to find time to do anything. **

**I hope you guys have been enjoying this story so far. I've been kind of unsure as to whether most people who find it are liking it or not. I see lots of views but not much other activity so it's hard to know if most people are actually enjoying the fic. I'm so thankful, though, to those of you who review. You guys really help keep me motivated; you're the best! **

**I have ideas for how I want the story and the mystery to wrap up but I might decide to wrap it up sooner if most people who find it aren't super into it. I dunno! If you like where things are going and you're having fun reading, please let me know. **

**That aside, this chapter is kind of on the short side and I apologize for that. I just thought this would be a nice place to end and I hope it doesn't disappoint!**

**And as always, I don't own Hey Arnold.]**

Lila paused, trying to formulate the words that were spinning in her head. Brooke had mentioned Helga trying to find information on her mother, so that was one thing. It also sounded as if Brooke knew who attacked Lila when she was younger. Would that mean she could find him? That idea both scared and thrilled her as it brought to surface even darker thoughts than the ones she'd already been dealing with. She wanted that man to suffer. She wanted him to die for what he did to her…

"Um…" Lila hummed. "You said a lot in your voicemail and I was just hoping you could tell me more," She said as sweetly as she could.

Brooke sighed. "Lila, don't you think we should have this conversation in person?"

"That isn't really an option right now, I'm afraid," Lila said abruptly, impatiently.

Brooke started for a moment, "Well…" It was obvious she felt uncomfortable with what she was discussing but she continued anyway. "As you know, your mother and I were close friends growing up. I spent a lot of time with her family as a child and we did just about everything together," She paused, her thoughts drifting. "Would you have any idea as to why this girl, Helga, is trying to contact me? Who is she?"

"She's an old classmate," Lila said, forlorn. "Can you tell me more about my mom? About what happened? Neither of you ever told me why she ended up in Hillwood…"

"I know, dear," Brooke said, her voice pained. "And when you were attacked, I just…" Her voice broke slightly but she fought desperately to keep her composure. After all, a woman of her class needed to maintain some measure of dignity, right? "Lila… She was so desperately afraid, and rightly so. I did the best I could to try and help her but I'm afraid it wasn't enough…"

Lila struggled with the conflicting emotions of an aching heart and impatience. "You tried, and I could never thank you enough for what you did for her… and for me. But you think you know who was responsible for what happened to her?" She asked. "To me?"

"I can't prove it," Brooke admitted. "But there's no doubt in my mind,"

"Where can I find them?"

. . . . . . . .

Arnold's thoughts were racing as the cab drove him to an island just off the coast of Concordia. He'd saved the only address on her laptop to memory and had written it down as soon as he got his hands on a piece of paper. On the way to the airport he'd phoned 9-1-1 and sent an ambulance to the address, hoping and praying that he was right and that that's where Helga was.

And that he wasn't too late.

The flight had only been about an hour but it'd felt like an eternity. How could he have missed so much? All this time he'd spent watching her from afar and he'd never expected her to do something like this. Somehow he felt he'd failed her all over again. If it wasn't bad enough that _his _car was the one that caused her car to flip (and sustain more damage) during the accident, he'd been spying on her for years, completely oblivious to how depressed she was and _the reason._

_She thinks I'm dead._

Arnold struggled to process that as he tapped his foot impatiently on the plane. He was immensely thankful that the seat next to him was empty, otherwise he was sure he would've driven any passenger who sat next to him crazy with his constant fidgeting, shifting, sighing, and huffing.

It was night and the streets were dark sans the street lights. As they drove over the bridge to the island, Arnold stared out at the water, pitch black but glistening here and there with the light from the moon.

At this point, he was struggling with so much guilt, he wasn't sure what to do or where it was coming from anymore. Guilt over the accident, guilt over his relationship with Lila, guilt over not being completely focused on her absence, and guilt over being completely blind to Helga's pain.

She meant so much to him and he might lose her tonight.

That thought crossed Arnold's mind and he quietly gasped, taken aback by the realization at first but it made sense. He couldn't deny he cared about her. He always had. And would he have been so determined to keep in touch with her if he didn't? Probably not. The thought of never having the chance to appropriately apologize to her frightened him but not as much as the thought of never being able to say _anything _to her again. He had to fix this. There had to be a way.

The cab had barely stopped moving when Arnold jumped out in front of the cottage. There was a cop car outside with two officers talking. The lights were on inside the cottage and the front door was propped open.

Thanking his lucky stars he hadn't been prohibited from leaving the state by the judge, he cautiously approached the officers.

"E-Excuse me," Arnold found his voice after clearing his throat. "Is my friend alright? Her name is Helga,"

The officers exchanged looks but one of them turned and spoke, his voice firm but gentle. "They took her to the hospital about fifteen minutes ago,"

"So she's alive?!" Arnold exclaimed and the officer's eyes widened for a moment in surprise.

"Yes," He nodded.

"What hospital?"

"Concordia General, on the mainland," The officer replied and Arnold immediately bolted back to the cab.

"I kept the meter running," The cab driver said gruffly, obviously irritated at Arnold's sudden mad dash out of the cab.

"I don't care," Arnold said absent-mindedly. "Can you take me to Concordia General?"

The driver turned around and as they headed back to the mainland, Arnold's heart and mind raced.

She was okay. She wasn't dead. He wasn't too late. Everything was gonna be okay, he just had to get to her and… and then…

_She thinks I'm dead…_

How was she going to react when he showed up? Would she be able to handle it? Would it be a good thing or do more harm than good? He wrestled with these thoughts the whole rest of the way and when they stopped in front of the main entrance, he waited impatiently for the cab driver to swipe his credit card.

_This thing is taking a beating tonight… _Arnold thought to himself as he slipped the card back into his wallet. He was sure that between the last-minute flight and the cab fare alone, he'd probably almost maxed his card out. So much for paying off that chunk of debt. But that didn't really matter right now. All he cared about was finding Helga. He had to make this right. He wasn't sure how, other than to let her know that he was alive and to finally apologize for crashing into her car. His head was spinning too much and his adrenaline was pumping too hard for him to stop and think for long.

Helga was already in a room since she'd come in via ambulance.

"She was so lucky," The nurse said as she escorted Arnold down several hallways. "The beam she attached that hose to broke; it couldn't hold her weight," Arnold could feel his blood pressure slowly starting to return to normal as they rounded corridors and the nurse explained what happened. "She hit her head when she fell – it knocked her unconscious for a while. She was getting an CT-scan a little while ago so I'm not sure if she's back in the room yet or not but you're welcome to wait for her,"

_I'm not sure if I should be waiting for her in her room when she comes back… I don't want to scare her…_

They finally came to a room with a glass window, shielded by a curtain. The wide hospital door was open and Arnold made sure to stay out of view.

"Oh, good," The nurse, who was in view of the door and could see inside, said pleasantly. "She's back,"

"Thanks," Arnold said, glancing toward the door and suddenly feeling very nervous about stepping inside.

"Our hospital psychiatrist will be coming back soon to do a crisis work-up on her," The nurse advised. "But you're welcome to visit with her now, if you like,"

"Thank you," Arnold repeated and the nurse smiled before walking in the direction they'd come.

He turned and leaned back against the doorframe. What could he say to her? Where was he even supposed to start? So much was about to change, he was sure of it. They had so much they obviously needed to talk about, needed to know about, but as his adrenaline rush subsided he felt weak and tired. He wasn't sure what to do.

Gathering his courage, he slowly turned around and gently knocked against the doorframe.

"It's obviously open," A painfully familiar voice muttered and he felt a surge of nostalgia, pain, and wonder wash over him. This was it.

He noticed his hand was trembling and he mentally chastised himself for being so nervous. Without any other ideas for a better entrance, he slowly slid around the frame and stood in the doorway.

Helga was sitting up in the bed, supported by several pillows behind her back. There was a large gauze bandage with a blood stain on the side of her head and some bruising at her neck. He gulped at the sight and fought to keep his eyes on her face.

Her features, more delicate than he remembered them being, were contorted into her infamous scowl. She somehow looked completely different yet remarkably the same and it took his breath away. For a moment, he'd forgotten what he wanted to say and his mind, for the first time that night, quieted.

Eventually she lifted her gaze and when she met his, her eyes widened, her face blanched. They stood in silence for a minute, neither of them daring to say a word.

Helga's heart was pounding and she wondered if she was hallucinating. Could this really be happening? Was it really him? No, he was dead. That had been her fault. Why was she seeing him?

Helga moved her lips to speak but nothing came out, her face still locked in a look of pure, stunned confusion.

Arnold took a few ginger steps closer to Helga's bed and this seemed to awaken her from her daze.

"A-A-A –" She couldn't form the word but Arnold nodded knowingly. At that, tears instantly flooded Helga's eyes and Arnold quickly closed the space between them. "I can't –" She coughed, her voice slightly raspy and her expression still aghast.

Arnold looked down at her from her bedside, his face soft, and he surprised himself when he felt his own eyes welling up. He hadn't realized how much this would affect him but especially knowing that she'd spent the past seven years thinking he was dead, he found himself experiencing more emotions than he could keep up with. He was so relieved that she was okay and wanted nothing more than to take away the guilt she'd been grappling with for all this time. He understood guilt; he'd been dealing with it himself for just as long but somehow, looking at her, he knew everything was going to be alright now.

He quickly blinked tears away and smiled at her. "I'm here,"

This broke Helga and she started crying profusely, her sobs sounding particularly painful as she wheezed the slightest bit. Acting on instinct, Arnold leaned in to hug her, rubbing her back. This only served to overwhelm Helga even more and she gripped him tightly, her tears staining the fabric of his sweatshirt. Arnold felt her shoulders heaving as she sobbed, her head nestled against his collarbone and her hair tickling his neck. They stayed like this for several minutes until Helga's breathing started to normalize. Arnold carefully pulled away from her, studying her face as if it could provide all of the answers to the questions he could barely form.

"You're alive," Helga said weakly, her voice almost a whimper as she smiled the most pure smile he'd ever seen in his life.

He nodded, pursing his lips.

"How?" She quirked her head, still staring at him as if he were an angel and she would soon realize she'd died.

"I didn't die in the accident, Helga," Arnold said quickly. "The person they wrote about… it wasn't me,"

Helga's brow furrowed in confusion. "But it said –"

"I know," Arnold cut her off. "I know, I saw the headlines. But that wasn't me. Maybe someone got their facts mixed up or maybe someone else with the same name died that day, I don't know, but it _wasn't me_, Helga," He was beginning to feel another surge of emotion and he fought to keep himself composed. He wanted to be strong for her but he hadn't expected to feel so… overwhelmed.

"But I saw your car!" Helga cried. "I saw the Packard!"

"I was _in _the accident," Arnold said, turning his face away in shame as he heaved a deep sigh. "I couldn't stop in time and I hit you… I—I've felt so guilty all these years because if I had reacted faster, I could've stopped and I wouldn't have hit you," He paused, his brow furrowed. The time had finally come to be honest with her and confess his guilt. "That's what caused your car to flip. If that hadn't happened, you probably wouldn't have ended up in that coma…" He paused, biting his lip as another wave hit him and his eyes welled up. "I hated that I did that to you, Helga. It was my fault,"

"No, no, no, no…" Helga shook her head adamantly, her own tears falling freely. "Arnold, it's okay,"

Arnold gave her a weak smile. "Do… do you mind… can I hug you?" He asked pathetically and Helga laughed, shaking her head and smiling. "I'm so glad you're okay," He said softly, his arms wrapped around her shoulders and the sides of their heads resting gently against one another.

Both of them were reeling from the realizations and the confessions, the heavy weight of the past seven years finally releasing them from its chokehold. And in its place, pure joy. It was a childlike feeling that left them emotionally exhausted but elated. Even if for a brief moment in time, they forgot about the past. They forgot that Helga was supposed to be tough and mean and Arnold was supposed to be wary of her. They forgot about everything and for just a few minutes, it was only them. It was a blissful moment in which all walls were down and both could find comfort in the truth, find relief in the circumstances that brought them to where they were now. There was still so much to talk about, so much to figure out, but for now, things were okay. And somehow, in that blissful moment of peace, they could find strength and forgiveness.


	17. Chapter 15

**[A/N: Hey all! Thank you so much for your kind words and encouragement 3 I can't express how glad I am that there are people enjoying this fic. You're the best!**

**Thanks to a few hours of inspiration, I have another chapter done! And this one is longer, woo!**

**Please read and review and enjoy!]**

Arnold awoke to the sensation of his cell phone vibrating in his jeans pocket. As he began to regain consciousness, the smell of disinfectant was a faint reminder that he was still in the hospital. One by one, his senses alerted him to his environment. He could feel the chair he was uncomfortably slouched in, its dark green cushioning doing nothing to make up for the hard wooden arms and awkward positioning. As his eyes began to flutter open, he could see the faint hint of daylight peeking in through the closed window blinds on the other side of the room. There was a light above Helga's bed that was still on but other than that, the hint of dawn outside was the main thing illuminating the room.

Finally somewhat aware of himself, he quickly pulled his phone out to check who was calling him.

"Hey Gerald," Arnold mumbled into the phone, his eyelids closing as he tried to reposition himself in the chair. He kept his voice low as Helga was still asleep in the hospital bed next to him.

"Dude, where the hell are you?" Gerald exclaimed into the phone. He sounded concerned.

"Mmm… Concordia," Arnold said as a yawn escaped him.

"Concordia?" Gerald's voice was much more flustered and jarring than Arnold was ready for this early in the morning. What time was it, anyway? "Well, you better get your ass back to Hillwood," He paused. "What are you doing in Concordia?"

Arnold was starting to wake up more now and he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, sitting up in the chair and stretching. "It's a long story," Arnold said quietly as he stood up and moved to the other end of the room, hoping to avoid disturbing Helga's sleep.

"The hell you mean, _'It's a long story'?_" Gerald asked tersely. "You can't just be disappearin' and scarin' the shit outta people, man…"

"I'm sorry," Arnold said, glancing over to Helga's sleeping form. She was lying on her side facing away from him and he watched as her side rose and fell with each breath. She didn't stir. "It wasn't something I planned,"

"What's going on with you, man?" Gerald asked in a much calmer, though still concerned, tone. "You haven't been right for a while. Even before all the Lila shit,"

Arnold sighed and rubbed his face, leaning back against the window to the hallway. The curtain over it was pulled and Arnold could see a few nurses bustling around, probably just starting their shift. Oh yeah, what time was it? He pulled his phone away for a second to look at the clock on the screen. 7:12.

"I'd rather not have this conversation over the phone," Arnold said simply and for a moment, there was silence. That obviously wasn't the response Gerald wanted.

"Are you okay?" Gerald asked after a minute.

"Yeah," Arnold said honestly. "Yeah, I'm okay. And I promise, I'll tell you what's going on when I get back,"

"And when will that be?" Gerald asked. "I'm only gonna be in town a couple more days,"

Arnold glanced over at Helga, trying to come up with a plan as quickly as possible. "Okay," He said. "I'll be back soon; I promise. Umm… I'll take a bus and come back tonight. Is that alright?"

"Sure Arnold," Gerald grumbled, obviously still annoyed. "You know you can't be doin' this shit. Disappearin' in the night and scarin' your friends… we're worried about you, Arnold – me and Brainy. You haven't been acting like yourself, man. After everything that's gone on with you, it'd be nice for you to clue us in…"

Arnold sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I know; I'm sorry," He said humbly. "Let's grab a beer tonight and I'll tell you everything, okay?"

Arnold spent the next hour or so searching for bus tickets that would take him back to Hillwood at the lowest rate on his phone. Eventually the sun peeped over the horizon and fully illuminated the room such that any artificial light was unnecessary. He'd just completed his purchase when Helga finally began to stir.

"Hey," She said softly, her eyes only half-open, as she turned on her side to face him. "What time is it?"

"Going on nine," Arnold replied with a small smile. There was something captivating about her. He'd never seen her this calm – he hadn't seen her at _all _in years… It was probably just due to the fact she was only half-awake, but still, he couldn't help himself from smiling at her.

Helga yawned and pulled herself into an upright position. The bandage on her head had been jostled in her sleep but it was obvious the bleeding had stopped so it wasn't a concern. "You're still here," Helga said in a small, careful voice.

"Yeah," Arnold said softly. "How are you feeling?"

Helga let out a soft groan. "Okay, I guess…" She sighed. "Kind of numb after last night,"

The hospital psychiatrist had met with Helga late last night to assess her mental state. Considering the incredible revelation that Arnold was actually alive, she was in a much different mindset than she would've been otherwise. She'd spent a good hour talking to the psychiatrist about what had happened and why she did what she did, not that she'd really wanted to but she didn't have the energy to care about embarrassment or feeling vulnerable. She had already maxed out her vulnerability level. In the end, they'd decided to keep her for a few days to ensure she wouldn't be a risk to herself anymore and to get her some inpatient counseling in the meantime.

Arnold nodded his understanding. After the psychiatrist had left her for the night, he'd come back to her room. He offered to talk about what happened but she was too drained and before either of them knew it, she'd fallen asleep.

"I have to head back to Hillwood later today," Arnold said gently and upon noticing the change in Helga's expression added, "But I can come back. I just have to take care of a couple things,"

Helga bit the inside of her lip and nodded. "Yeah, yeah. Sure, that's… that's fine,"

"You sure?" Arnold eyed her carefully.

"I'll be fine, _Footballhead,_" She said, smirking for the first time since they'd been reunited.

Arnold chuckled. How could he ever have expected to feel _relieved _at hearing his old nickname? "I thought you forgot about the whole 'Footballhead' thing,"

Helga scoffed humorously. "Forget? How could I?" She dramatically gestured to him with both arms. "I mean, _look _at you!"

Arnold smiled, still amazed at how nice this banter felt. In an odd way, he felt like he'd missed it and that surprised him the most. "I'm gonna get some coffee. Do you want any?"

"Desperately," Helga said in a grave tone.

Arnold grinned. "Be right back,"

. . . . . . . .

Early that morning, Lila had attempted to leave Stinky's house before he woke up but was sorely surprised to find he was already sitting on the living room sofa when she crept down the stairs, bag in hand.

"Mornin', Miss Lila," He greeted her. "Whacha got yer bag there for?"

"Oh," Lila said softly, trying to come up with an excuse. After her conversation with Brooke last night, she had a new plan. According to Brooke, the answers (and revenge) she was looking for were in Concordia. It'd been amazing to listen to Brooke recount stories of her mother that she'd never heard before. When her parents had met, Brooke was already living in Hillwood for some time. Her father owned a farm in a rural part of the state and when they got together, she'd moved from the city to the farm with him. After she died, her father had moved them back to Hillwood as a sort of sentiment to his late wife. In all that time, he'd never known where she came from and as a result, Lila had never known. It wasn't until she connected with Brooke years ago that she began to learn the real story of her family and there were still things she didn't know.

"Um…" Lila hesitated a moment. "Stinky, I appreciate everything you've done for me… just _ever _so much, it's just… I think I should go back home. I… I-I can't keep living this lie anymore," She said, giving him a sad, pitiful look.

Stinky stood up from the couch and approached her at the staircase landing. "Lila," He said, taking her bag and setting it on the floor next to them and gently lifting her chin to look at him. "You did what you had to do. Yer safe here; you don't gotta go back,"

"I know," Lila said, looking away. "I know I'm safe with you and I can't tell you how grateful I am, it's just… there are some things I need to take care of before I feel completely safe,"

"Like what?" Stinky asked, looking at her quizzically. "Whatever it is, I'll do it for you," Then he added in a more solemn tone, "I meant what I said all those years ago, Lila,"

Lila pursed her lips and nodded thoughtfully, pausing just a moment before asking, "Do you still love me, Stinky?"

Stinky hesitated at that, his eyes darting bashfully to the floor. "I… I-I reckon I do…" He said quietly and Lila smiled.

Lila gently picked up his hands in her own. "I'll come back," She said sweetly, their faces only inches apart. "I promise,"

. . . . . . . .

Later that evening, Arnold was back in Hillwood, standing outside the local bar and waiting for Gerald. He'd promised Helga that he would come back as soon as he could and he was already looking at buses leaving for Concordia in the morning. He didn't have a long-term plan yet; all he knew was that his court date wasn't for another couple months and his job had put him on a temporary leave of absence. To him, this meant he had the time and as long as there was room on his credit card for the fare, he had the means.

Gerald appeared around the corner, his hands tucked into his pockets as he made his way down the sidewalk toward Arnold. They'd already crossed over the threshold from winter into spring; trees were overrun with little buds on their branches and the days were beautiful and bright. However, at night, the temperatures dropped and a jacket was still necessary as the winds could be chilly.

"You showed up," Gerald said in mock surprise once Arnold was in earshot.

Arnold deadpanned. "I said I would," He grinned good-naturedly. "Come on,"

As they settled at the bar with their drinks finally in hand, Gerald initiated the conversation.

"Okay, so spill," He said, leaning one arm against the bar and facing his best friend. "What's been goin' on with you, man? Brainy said you were doin' some questionable shit but he wouldn't tell me what," Gerald looked around, lowering his voice. "Is it drugs? You can be straight with me, man, I—"

"I'm not doing drugs, Gerald," Arnold said in a serious tone though he struggled to keep from laughing. "That's not what's going on,"

"Okay, so then what is it?" Gerald asked, sipping his beer bottle.

Arnold sighed, tapping a couple fingers against his own bottle as he tried to formulate an explanation. "Okay… You remember that accident back in high school?"

"Yeah," Gerald nodded in earnest.

"Well," Arnold sucked in a deep breath and exhaled sharply. "I've felt really guilty about it for a long time…"

"But Arnold –"

"I know," Arnold cut him off. "It was an accident. But still, Gerald, Helga was in a _coma _for almost a _year!_ She couldn't talk or do anything for herself… I really messed up her life!" He paused, vaguely aware that his foot was tapping but he could do nothing to stop his fidgeting. "I felt horrible for what happened and I couldn't stop thinking about it and wondering what happened to her and how she was doing… After I started working with Brainy, he taught me a lot about computers and well…"

After an extra long pause, Gerald prodded, "_And?"_

"And… I started hacking into Helga's computer –"

"You _WHAT?!_" Gerald exclaimed and Arnold quickly shushed him.

"I was trying to help!"

"_By HACK –"_

_"Shh!" _Arnold shushed him again, more forcefully. "Yes, I know it wasn't the best idea but it's all I could think of and I was too ashamed to try and contact her directly," Gerald remained silent but stared at his friend with wide eyes, shaking his head in disbelief. "Anyway," Arnold continued. "I started helping her find information for all her articles and assignments she was researching for work. Misguided as it was, I wanted to help her and try to make up for what I put her through," He looked down at the bar, his face forlorn.

"Hey man," Gerald said gently, putting a hand on Arnold's shoulder. "It wasn't your fault you couldn't stop in time. You can't beat yourself up over it,"

Arnold huffed, looking up at the ceiling for a second before finally taking his first sip of his beer. "It was, though. You know _why _it happened, Gerald? I was thinking about Lila,"

He paused for a second and Gerald patiently waited for him to continue.

"We'd just had a stupid argument… or something, I don't know. I touched her the wrong way or something and she freaked out. The point is I was distracted," Arnold's shoulders hung in shame and his gaze focused vacantly on the label of his beer bottle, his mind wandering through a distant, though vivid, memory.

Gerald sighed, aware that he didn't have anything particularly inspirational or uplifting that could take away the pain his best friend had been feeling all these years. He wished he'd known sooner but even then, what could he have done? He wasn't sure.

"But anyway," Arnold kickstarted the conversation again. "You wanted to know why I was in Concordia. I'll tell you – and I know you're gonna tell Phoebe so just… be gentle when you do it – Helga's been in Concordia for some time now. She's on some type of project but I'm not sure what," He paused. "She's been dealing with her own crap over the years, related to the accident and feeling guilty, too… She thought I died in the crash, though,"

"Wow," Gerald said, his eyebrows raised.

Arnold nodded. "And last night, I was um… looking in her computer and noticed that she… started writing this… this… suicide note,"

"Holy shit," Gerald breathed. "For real?"

"Yeah," Arnold said softly, taking a deep breath and exhaling. "So I sent an ambulance to her address and caught the soonest flight I could up to Concordia,"

Gerald paused. "Is… is she okay?" He asked warily.

"Yeah," Arnold replied. "She's gonna be in the hospital for a few days but she's okay," Another pause between them. "Soo… that's what's been going on," Arnold breathed, then took a sip of his drink.

Gerald's brow was furrowed and his gaze fixed on the bar. "Damn…" He shook his head, still in disbelief from it all. "We thought we had problems when we were kids, look at this shit…"

Arnold shrugged, setting his bottle down on a coaster and straightening it so it lined up with the bar.

"I'm sorry I kind of got on your ass this morning," Gerald said. "I was just worried about you. With Lila missing and you under arrest, we didn't know what was up and I guess I overreacted a little when he called me,"

"It's alright, I get it," Arnold waved him off. "I guess it's good to know I have people who want to check on me in the first place,"

"Of course," Gerald said, playfully hitting Arnold in the shoulder. "You're my brother,"

Arnold smiled and relaxed against the bar. "But yeah, if and when you tell Phoebe…"

"Oh, I know," Gerald put a hand up. "She's already super pregnant and kinda crazy. Believe me, I'm learning how and when to bring certain things up," He chuckled.

The two friends were interrupted by the sound of Arnold's phone going off. He didn't know the number but his phone said the call was coming from Concordia.

"This might be Helga," Arnold said. "I gave her my number before I left,"

Gerald motioned for Arnold to go ahead and answer the call.

"Hello?" Arnold spoke into the phone and was met with incoherent sobbing. "Helga?"

He recognized her voice but her speech was so punctuated with cries that over the phone she was completely inaudible.

"I can't understand you," Arnold said calmly. "Relax, try to breathe…"

Gerald shot Arnold a concerned look and Arnold shook his head, shrugging his shoulders.

"What's going on?"

"He… he…" Helga began but her voice fell apart into sobs once again. Arnold waited patiently for her to catch her breath and when she finally did, his face fell.

"Okay, I'll be there as soon as I can," Arnold said urgently. "It's gonna be okay, Helga. Just hang on until I get there, okay?"

Arnold hung up and Gerald immediately questioned, "What happened?"

"Rich just died in the hospital," Arnold said, slipping back into his jacket and getting off of the bar stool. "Peapod kid,"

**[A/N: Oh no! What do you think is gonna happen? I'm starting to see the end in sight... can you tell we're slowwwllyy getting close to the (second) climax? Let me know what you thought of this chapter and/or what you think might happen! I love predictions ;)]**


	18. Chapter 16 Part 1

**[A/N: I'm breaking chapter 16 into two parts because I have a few pieces of content that I won't be able to get to for some time (ugh, school work...) but I wanted to go ahead and at least post SOMETHING. So here's another emotional chapter for y'all lol]**

**Present Day**

Arnold wouldn't be able to get back to Concordia until late that night at the earliest so Helga was forced to deal with the stunning news of Rich's death alone. At first the nurses hadn't wanted Helga to leave her room considering her questionable mental status but thankfully, William had come to escort her, all the while assuring that he would keep watch over her.

Helga held her breath as she approached Rich's room. Over and over again she told herself how she'd failed him. It'd been too late. She was supposed to save him. These conflicted with her rediscovered desire to live and forgive herself for her mistakes, all the while the two dichotomous emotions spun together, twisting and pulling at one another until Helga found herself choking in the entanglement.

It was amazing how quickly things could change. She'd spent many year depressed and drowning in self-loathing and in only a few short weeks, a month or two, Rich had inspired her to imagine a future again. His collapse and hospitalization, along with the thought of that future disintegrates just as quickly as it had appeared, sent her into another downward spiral but with the realization that Arnold had been alive all this time, everything she'd done and felt about herself came into question. The rollercoaster ride of emotions left her feeling nauseated and she wasn't sure she could handle any more twists or turns lest she completely lose her mind.

When she first saw Rich lying in his hospital bed, she could have imagined he was only asleep. There was still some color to his skin and he looked peaceful, lying on his back with his glasses resting on the nightstand beside his bed. Several of the family members were there including Sandra, Henry, and Adrienne. Helga vaguely heard someone mention Marcus and Linda arriving at the airport in an hour and remembered that those were the names of Rich's parents.

As Helga approached Rich's bedside with William's hand gently resting on her shoulder, guiding her, she felt a wave wash over her and steal her breath. Tears welled in her eyes but she fought the instinct to let them fall. She wasn't among friends, after all.

So she stood next to the bed, arms crossed tightly over her chest and her gaze fixed on Rich. She studied every part of his face and marveled at how she'd never noticed how long his eyelashes were before now.

Adrienne stood on the other side of the bed, weeping, as Henry looked on from the foot of the bed. William stood next to Helga, holding Rich's hand and Ronald stood, ever faithful, at William's side. Sandra sat in a chair toward the foot of the bed on Adrienne's side, occasionally lifting her glasses to wipe tears. They all remained in these positions for the better part of an hour, silently saying their goodbyes and mourning the loss. Nurses came in and out and one of Rich's doctors spoke directly with William about Rich's condition leading up to his passing.

All the while, Helga stood by – half watching, half thinking, but mostly lost in her own world. She was so caught up in how surreal this was that part of her couldn't process the fact that he was gone. She struggled even to process how quickly he'd come in and out of her life. She wished desperately that Arnold would arrive soon so that she could seek comfort from him and in the same moment, felt guilt for wanting him. Though she couldn't be certain as to who her guilt was directed toward. Did she feel guilty for becoming so connected to Rich or because she still longed for Arnold?

When Rich's parents arrived, the other family members started to trickle out of the room. It was almost ten at night and everyone was tired and emotionally drained. William appeared behind Helga again, gently coaxing her to leave the room but right at that moment, her attention had been drawn elsewhere. She waited until the other family members were mostly out of earshot before leaning in to William to whisper, "What is that on his neck?"

"I'm sorry?" William replied, confused.

"Look at his neck," Helga said, discreetly pointing at a small mark on Rich's neck. "Do you see that?"

With everyone out of the room, William leaned in and squinted. Helga watched his face as his eyes widened and his lips tightened. "I do," He said in a low voice.

"Do you think –"

"Let's speak about this later," William cut her off. "We must leave the room now,"

Helga nodded, looking back at Rich once more before following William out into the hallway.

. . . . . . . .

Arnold's sense of time was completely out of whack with all of this travel. At this point, he was running on autopilot and by the time he arrived back at the hospital in Concordia, he felt like a robot.

It was just after midnight and one of the late shift nurses had told him that Helga was back in her room.

Arnold took in his appearance as he passed by the reflective glass of several rooms. Thankfully, he'd had the opportunity to take a shower and change his clothes when he got back to Hillwood otherwise he probably would have looked just as exhausted as he felt. The only sleep he'd gotten had been a few hours in that hospital chair that offered no comfortable position to rest. He hadn't combed his hair after his shower so his blond hair was a tangled, unruly mess atop his head, random tufts sticking out in every direction.

He entered Helga's room with a soft, "Hey,"

"Hi," Helga responded. She was sitting up in bed but leaned back against a mass of pillows supporting her back.

Arnold dumped his belongings, a duffel bag with a change of clothes and several other important items, into the chair in the corner and walked up to her bedside.

What could he say? What should he say? They'd never been terribly close to Rich growing up but he obviously had to be important to her if she'd almost sacrificed her own life to save his, right? Could she have loved him? A sick feeling fell over Arnold's stomach and he wondered why that should bother him. They hadn't seen each other or spoken in so many years; what right did he have to have any sort of opinion on who Helga was involved with? She certainly wouldn't approve whenever she learned that he'd married Lila.

Lila.

He suddenly felt ashamed at how little he was thinking about that whole situation now. He still suspected that something wasn't right about Lila's disappearance and that he was being set up by someone but it still felt wrong to not even be thinking about her. If she was really hurt, shouldn't he be worried? If she was fine but somehow staged everything to torment him, shouldn't he be heartbroken? Betrayed? How could he feel so indifferent to such an immensely important thing happening in his life? Maybe something was wrong with him and he wasn't the "good guy" everyone always claimed him to be. Maybe he was just as flawed and broken as the rest of them.

It'd been quiet between them for several minutes now and Arnold felt inclined to speak. "I'm really sorry," He said softly and Helga bit her lip. Arnold noticed the way he eyes glistened and his heart immediately ached for her. She turned her head but he saw a tear escape the corner of her eye and so he sat down on the bed beside her, reaching for her hand.

It was so seamless, the way she immediately turned and clung to him like she was caught in the raging current of a river and he was the only rock for miles. Arnold wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug and her soft blonde hair tickled his eyelid but he ignored it. He held her tight as her shoulders heaved and intuitively whispered, "Helga, it's… it's not your fault,"

She heaved a hearty sob at that, clutching his shirt desperately and burying her face against his chest.

"It's not your fault," He repeated, more clearly and her once silent sobs became audible, though incoherent.

She pulled away from him and attempted to speak. "If I—if I – If I—" She struggled to form a sentence through her hysterical hyperventilating. Though Arnold had never seen Helga Pataki so broken and vulnerable, he acted on instinct. Somehow, comforting her felt natural.

"Shh," Arnold hushed her, gently grasping her arms and looking directly into her eyes, though she wouldn't meet his gaze. Her eyes were cast down as she whimpered, her breathing staggered. "It's okay. Helga," He looked at her, asking for her attention. "Helga," He repeated and she slowly lifted her gaze to meet his. Her crystal blue eyes seemed to sparkle from the reflection of fluorescent light. Tears hung in beads from her eyelashes like dew on a twig and he watched as a few slid down her now bright red cheeks.

He wasn't sure what came over him. Maybe it was how pitiful she looked. Maybe it was his own sense of empathy. Maybe it was the fact that her pain reminded him of how it felt when he'd lost his grandparents. Either way, he found his own eyes watering and he held Helga's arms firmly, his gaze still locked on hers and she must have felt something, too because she never broke their eye contact and her breathing slowly calmed.

"Please –" Arnold started. He wanted to tell her not to cry but crying was natural. Crying was _normal_ in situations like this. What could he do? He wanted to take her pain away but there was no way to do that. He took a deep breath and in the most serious voice he could muster, he repeated, "Helga, it was _not _your fault,"

He watched her lip quiver and just for a moment wondered if he should kiss her but he immediately stopped that thought in its tracks without another moment's consideration. Instead, he leaned his forehead against hers and let her cry. She eventually turned such that their temples were side by side, a more comfortable position that led to a deep hug, their heads resting on one another's shoulders.

**[A/N: I hope you guys liked this. We're gonna get into some real action and drama later but I needed to process these emotions first. **

**Next up: What was that thing on Rich's neck? Arnold and Helga discuss their history (and the method by which Arnold was able to find her...). What's going on with Lila and what is she going to do? Will anyone figure out what happened to Marguerite? **

**Also, I'm going to try and start replying to reviews! I so appreciate it when you guys take the time out to review and tell me what you think so I think they deserve personalized responses. :) With that being said, please review! I genuinely want to know what you think of the chapters, whether everything makes sense, what you want to know/what you think will happen, etc. It gives me liiiife XD. Bye for now]**


	19. Chapter 16 Part 2

**[A/N: So, I managed to write another 1700 ish words of Arnold and Helga interaction goodness so I figured I'd go ahead and post that now. The next chapters should be (hopefully will be) longer. I've just gotta get through this semester! But we're at the last chunk of the story so a LOT is going to happen and loose ends will be coming together. I just wanted to make sure I gave these two lovely characters the time they deserved :) **

**I don't own Hey Arnold]**

**Present Day**

Arnold woke up the following morning feeling just as stiff and achey, if not more so, than he had the night before. Helga was already awake, sitting up and watching an old sitcom rerun on the TV in the corner.

Arnold readjusted himself in the chair and yawned. "Good morning,"

Helga turned to him and the smallest of smiles graced her lips. "Morning," And then it was gone.

She wasn't upset or angry or elated or cheerful. She was simply calm. Arnold breathed in deeply, releasing a relaxing exhale as he tried to find a comfortable position in his chair. He was still directly next to Helga's bed and he followed her gaze to the TV. "What are you watching?"

Helga paused for a second and without looking at him, "Arnold, how did you find me? How did you just appear out of nowhere?" She turned to him and gave him a look he'd almost forgotten. A look that said _'Tell me the truth or I'll pound you'_, even if that was just hyperbole at this point.

Arnold felt his pulse quicken and suddenly he was more embarrassed and ashamed than he'd felt any of the other times he'd confessed his secret 'investigating' to another person. "I, um…"

Helga looked at him quizzically. Sure, it was weird that he appeared in her life again so suddenly and she wanted to know how but it had to be weirder than she thought for him to be acting so uncomfortable.

"I… ugh –" He groaned and ran a hand through his disheveled hair. He was still wiping sleep from his eyes and having this conversation half-asleep might not be the best of ideas but putting it off would probably be worse. "Okay," He sighed. "Helga, can… can you promise not to be mad?"

Helga grinned, crossing her arms in amusement. "Ha! This oughta be good…"

Arnold sighed again. "It's a really long story and I had the best of intentions the whole time, I promise,"

"Okay," Helga nodded, prodding him further. "Go on,"

Arnold nervously tapped a finger against the arm of the chair, his gaze fixated on it and avoiding Helga's. "I-I spent a lot of time feeling guilty for what I put you through… with the accident, you know?" He briefly looked up at her but she didn't say anything. "I didn't know what to do and I… guess I was afraid to try and talk to you. I didn't think you'd give me the time of day. Gerald said you weren't even talking to Phoebe, really. I figured if you weren't talking to your best friend, why would you wanna listen to me?"

Helga bit her lip, her expression softening from amusement to understanding. She had pushed everyone away. Between the time she spent recovering after the coma and her subsequent depression, she'd avoided people as much as she could, especially the people who knew her before the accident.

"Anyway," Arnold continued. "I started working with an old friend and he taught me a lot about computers," He was beginning to feel even more nervous as he danced around the point of his confession. "I couldn't stop thinking about the accident and wondering how you were and what things were like for you… I just wanted to help and be there for you but I didn't know how exactly so… so I…"

He paused and met her gaze but couldn't read it. She was listening, sure, but was she suspicious? Empathetic? Annoyed? Did she already know what he was going to say?

"I um," He sighed, hanging his head. "I hacked into your computer," He finally said, quickly adding, "And I'm so sorry! It was dumb and really foolish and a total violation of your privacy but I just wanted to see if there was anything I could do to help you so I-I started sending you information that I thought could help with some of those articles you were writing –"

"Wait," Helga finally spoke and Arnold startled at her sudden interjection. "_You _were _GOLD?_"

Arnold nodded meekly. "I know the whole thing was… completely insane," He said incredulously. "I don't know what I was thinking; I just had to do something and I couldn't figure out what. Nothing else seemed like an option and I just…" He sighed. "There's really no excuse, Helga. I completely understand if you want me to leave," Feeling and appearing deflated, he moved to stand up but Helga's arm flew out, her hand barely catching his.

"Wait, no," Helga commanded. "Don't go anywhere, sit back down,"

Arnold silently obliged, watching and waiting for more of her reaction.

"I…" Helga's face contorted in thought and she shook her head in disbelief. "I know you just explained _why _but I still don't get it,"

"Well –" Arnold started but Helga cut him off.

"No, don't keep explaining. I _understand _what you said, it's just… I'm surprised? I guess?" She sighed. "Okay, so let me get something straight," Arnold nodded, his attention focused solely on her. "So you were hacking into my computer," She said the words with emphasis that clearly indicated how stunned she was over this fact. "And knew that I…" Her eyes widened with realization. "You read my letter," She groaned. "Ugh… that's how you knew what was going on," Her voice became quiet as they stepped into this sensitive topic. She still felt fragile but the suicidal ideation had passed. She had been so rocked by the fact that Arnold was even alive, she needed to process what was going on in _life_. There wasn't any room for those dark thoughts right now.

"I found the address in one of your notes documents," Arnold admitted gently. "And came as soon as I could get here,"

Helga sighed and an air of silence fell over them as they both processed the conversation as well as the past few days.

"I'm really sorry, Helga," Arnold broke the silence with a soft apology.

Helga was quiet for a moment and in that time, Arnold silently begged her not to hate him.

"Okay," She said after what seemed to be forever. "Here's the deal. You _completely _invaded my privacy. That does _not _sit well with me. Do you know how many trust issues I have already? Shit, my trust issues have _volumes_,"

Arnold looked down at his feet. She was right. How could he have been so stupid? Everyone had told him that what he was doing was crazy. Why wouldn't he listen?

"But," Helga said and Arnold's ears perked up. "No one's ever put in that much effort and done something that ridiculous just to try and help me… or even just to know how I'm doing," She said quietly and her hands fidgeted with the end of her hospital blanket. "I mean, I've gotta give Olga credit for everything she did when I was recovering before… I… never expected that from her or anyone, really. And she tried to stay in contact with me after I moved but I just… I dunno, there were so many factors involved. I mean, how are you supposed to behave when you spend your whole life being treated like you're nothing and then all of a sudden one of them realizes, 'Oh hey, we might wanna treat her like a human being since she almost just died and all'…" Helga's eyes began to well up but she fought the tears away. Instead, her emotions manifested in her voice breaking. "I probably sound like the most ungrateful bitch right now," She half-heartedly laughed, mocking herself and trying to deflect from what she knew was obvious vulnerability radiating from her. "But no matter what I did to you, in all the time I've known you, you've always just…" She paused, wary of whether or not she wanted to cross this line but the impulsive side of her told her it was already too late and she might as well go on. "You always gave me a chance… you always had faith in me for some weird reason and… and to think, that while I was convinced you were _dead_ and completely shutting myself from everyone that I could… _you _were _still _trying to find a way to break through this hard shell and help me? You just wanted to know how I was _doing?_" The dams in her tear ducts finally broke and Arnold watched several tears escape down the sides of her cheeks. "I don't want you to go," She said in a voice barely a whisper, her gaze fixated on her lap as she wrung her hands together nervously. "_I've never wanted you to go,"_

Another tear dripped from Helga's chin onto the hospital blanket and Arnold stood up, leaning over the bed to capture Helga in what felt like their millionth hug. She accepted his embrace easily and he marveled at how different interacting with her was now compared to when they were in school. She never let him hug her for more than two seconds but here she was almost clinging to him for dear life. Never before had he seen her this vulnerable and while some people may have been scared away by such raw emotion, Arnold found himself feeling lucky. He knew, even after so many years apart, that this was not easy for her. How she was able to be so open with him now, he wasn't quite sure, but he had to admit he felt honored that she trusted him this much.

After a few minutes, they finally parted and Helga wiped her face. "I'm getting really fucking sick of crying all the time," She grumbled in a half-hearted attempt at a joke. Arnold simply smirked. "One more thing, though," Helga said once she'd composed herself. "That hacking shit? You forget that right now, bucko,"

Arnold chuckled, relieved that she didn't seem mad about any of it.

"I mean it!" Helga said a little more emphatically. "Criminy, who'd you get to teach you that crap anyway? Brainy?"

Arnold shrugged, grinning and Helga rolled her eyes, only slightly surprised. "Why doesn't that surprise me?" She shook her head. "But seriously, Arnold –"

"I know," Arnold said, putting a hand up. "I promise, that's over. It was weird and dumb at the time and would be totally just – I promise. Your privacy from now on is completely intact," He nodded for effect, then added, "Anything I want to know about you, I guess I'll just ask?" He smiled and Helga bit her lip to control her grin as she looked away, quelling the familiar fluttering in her heart.

**[A/N: Thanks for reading! Please review!]**


	20. Chapter 17

**[A/N: Hey guys! Another chapter for ya and this one's longer! Yay! We're getting closer and closer! I'm really happy that you guys seem to be enjoying the story! Please remember to review and send me any of your thoughts, predictions, or questions! I love hearing them and I want feedback on how you think the story is going.**

**Thanks again!**

**D/C: I don't own Hey Arnold]**

Arnold drove Helga to the grave site on the day of Rich's funeral. She'd been released from the hospital the day prior and since coming back to Concordia, Arnold had rented a motel room at the edge of the mainland as well as a car to get around. He'd briefly updated Brainy and Gerald on what was going on, much to their chagrin and concern, however, each of them reluctantly offered their support. They didn't understand what he was doing or why but being that it was Arnold, they trusted that he would do what was right, even if it didn't seem to make sense at the time.

It was a stormy day with off-and-on mists of rain and an overcast sky. Against the muted grey of the clouds and the leaf-less trees, the grass seemed greener as Helga, Arnold, and the Bauer family stood outside and waited for the final ceremony to begin. There had been a viewing a couple hours prior but William had insisted that both the viewing and the ceremony be private affairs, including only Helga and her guest in those who were invited to attend.

They were seated under a big black tent with Rich's casket in front of them, prepared to be lowered into the earth. The metal folding chair Helga sat in was uncomfortable but her mind was spinning such that she wasn't able to focus on very much. She'd cried a few times during the viewing and only reluctantly looked at Rich's still form once. She fluttered in and out of focus, her mind and eyes paying attention to everything and nothing at once while she was in this numb state. Arnold's arm was draped comfortingly around the back of her chair but even that experience seemed so far away. The words of the pastor seemed to be whispers and the final words from a few of Rich's family members, including his parents, sounded like lost echoes, far away and inaudible.

Helga finally came back to attention when she realized everyone around her was starting to get up and she heard Arnold gently coax, "Come on," His hand tentatively touched her shoulder. "Are you alright?"

Her expression was blank as she gave a small nod and stood up.

"Helga," William approached her as most of the other attendees had already begun their trek back to the parking lot. "May I speak with you a moment?"

Arnold looked to Helga for guidance as to whether he should stay or go and she nodded toward his rental car. "I'll meet you at the car in a minute,"

"Okay," Arnold agreed, nodding respectfully to William as he left Helga's side. "I'm very sorry for your loss, Mr. Bauer," He said and William shook his hand, "Thank you,"

Helga watched as Arnold walked to the mahogany sedan he'd rented, his hands tucked in his pockets and his shoulders hunched in the same blue, thoughtful stance he'd always seemed to possess. He hadn't brought many changes of clothes with him so he stuck out, with his faded blue jeans, dark red plaid button-down shirt, and the navy blue sweater he wore over it, in comparison to the dressier black clothing of the Bauers.

"Helga," William began. "Given everything that has transpired, I completely understand if you wish to discontinue the investigation of Marguerite's disappearance. I don't want any more people getting hurt," Helga could see the concern etched in the old man's forehead and the firm clench of his jaw. "Rich told me about the incident in the woods. You're lucky that bullet only grazed you – it could have been much worse,"

"I know," Helga said absently, still partially lost in thought. "I... um, I want to continue with the investigation, though," She shifted back and forth from one foot to the other, slightly uncomfortable. "For Rich,"

William breathed in deeply and let it out in a deep sigh. "You're certain?"

Helga nodded. "This meant a lot to him. I wanna see it through if I can,"

William registered the determined look on Helga's face, tucking his hands into his jacket pockets and looking around as wind whipped his grey hair. "You are a remarkable young lady," William smiled softly, sadly. "I understand why my grandson was smitten with you,"

Helga pursed her lips, unsure of how to respond. "I should get back to the cottage," She said after a moment, awkwardly changing the subject.

"Do what you need to do," William nodded to her as the two began to walk over to the parking lot. Many of the cars had already left and Arnold was standing outside of his rental, leaning against its side and focused on his smartphone. "Of course, you know I am available to answer any of your questions and if there's anything I can do to assist you, please let me know,"

Helga nodded politely. "Thank you," She said and the two parted ways once they got to the road.

Arnold looked up as Helga approached the car and slipped his phone into his pocket. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," Helga said, opening the passenger side door. "Let's go back to the cottage,"

Arnold silently obliged and started walking over to the driver's door but Helga wasn't getting into the car. "What's up?" He asked, following her gaze over to the last two remaining vehicles in the lot.

"I'll be right back," Helga said and closed her door before walking over to the group standing outside of the cars. It was Adrienne talking to Rich's parents and Helga noted that Adrienne was wearing the same necklace she'd seen her wearing before – the one from Marguerite's picture.

The three of them stopped talking and looked up when Helga approached. "You must be Helga," Rich's mom said when she was in earshot.

"Thank you for being such a good friend to our son," Rich's father said genuinely.

Helga's face softened. "He was a good friend to me…" She said cryptically, unwilling to verbalize just how much Rich had meant to her over the short period of time they'd spent together. "I have a question though," She said, changing the subject and directing her attention to Adrienne who looked at her quizzically. "Where did you get that necklace?"

"Excuse me?" Adrienne said, confused.

"That necklace," Helga repeated. "It looks exactly like the one Marguerite was wearing on the day she disappeared,"

Adrienne's facial expression immediately became annoyed. "This is not Marguerite's necklace," She said. "Don't you think this is an inappropriate time and place to be throwing out accusations?"

Helga's skeptical expression never faltered and Rich's parents looked uncomfortable, though they kept quiet.

"If you must know," Adrienne sighed with irritation. "It belonged to a family friend, Brooke Wellington. She gave it to me years ago when she moved out of state – a few _years_ after Marguerite disappeared,"

Helga paused in thought, processing this. There was Brooke's name again. If that had been her necklace, why was Marguerite wearing it in the picture of her in the window?

"I need to get home," Adrienne said curtly. "I suggest you work on your manners if you insist on involving yourself with this family," She turned abruptly an opened the driver's door to her car. "Take care, Marcus, Linda," Adrienne nodded to the couple and got into the car, pulling the door shut angrily.

"Thank you for coming," Rich's dad, Marcus, said politely to Helga before guiding his wife to their car and preparing to leave.

. . . . . . . .

Helga had been silent for most of the car ride back to the cottage. Arnold followed her inside, dropping his phone, wallet, and keys on the table and rolling up his sleeves up to his elbows for comfort's sake. It was warmer in the cottage than it was outside and he considered taking off his sweater.

Since being released from the hospital, Helga had tried to clean up the cottage. She wanted to remove every trace of what she'd almost done but the police and paramedics had made the place even more disorderly when they came to get her on the night of her attempted suicide.

Aside from the broken ceiling beam, you couldn't tell that anything unusual had happened and Helga had been keeping Rich's bedroom door shut. She didn't even want to look inside and risk the memories.

"So what do you want to do?" Arnold asked as he watched Helga walk around the main living area deep in thought.

"I need to figure out what the hell happened to Marguerite," Helga said, her brow set deep as she paced. "There's some fucked up shit going on with this family and I've gotta find out what," She looked up at Arnold and shrugged.

"Are you sure you wanna –"

"God dammit!" Helga exclaimed in exasperation. "You have no idea how tired I am of people asking me to quit or questioning why I'm doing this," She noted Arnold's taken-aback expression and softened her tone. "It's important, okay?"

Arnold nodded. "I understand," Then added, "I'll help you, if you want,"

Helga sighed and looked at him with a small smile. "I'm in no position to refuse, right? Here," She said, walking over to the coffee table where a medium sized box was sitting half-opened. "One of the things Rich and I hadn't gotten around to doing yet was checking this out," She pulled out a photo album and flipped to the pages with pictures from the parade, then motioned for Arnold to come over. "Look at this series of shots. See how she's looking across the street and then leaves the parade?" She asked as Arnold looked over her shoulder at the album. "Look at her face,"

"She looks scared," Arnold commented.

"Exactly," Helga affirmed. "Something on the other side of the street freaked her out,"

"You think whatever it was had to do with her disappearing?" Arnold asked, looking at her.

"It would make sense," Helga reasoned. "Now look behind her. There's a couple with a camera and they're facing the same direction," Helga flipped through a couple pages and then pointed to a picture in the right bottom corner. "That's them again and they're hanging out by this company truck,"

"You think you can find the couple by contacting the company?" Arnold deduced.

"It's worth a shot," Helga said, closing the album and tucking it under one arm and resting it on her hip. "If they have pictures that show what Marguerite was looking at, maybe we'll actually see the _face _of the person who was scaring her. No one else was looking over there. No one else looked scared or left the parade," She said emphatically. "We need to find out what was on the other side of the street,"

"Do you wanna go check out Albertson today?" Arnold offered. "We could go right now,"

"Hold your horses, Adventure Man," Helga rolled her eyes and smirked. "There's this handy invention called the _phone_. Why don't we call the place first?"

"Okay," Arnold said slowly. "But how do you expect them to know who we're talking about without seeing the pictures? Do you know their names?"

Helga paused for a second as she realized Arnold had a point and she had her foot in her mouth. She huffed, playing it off. "Okay, Detective," She said sarcastically, ignoring Arnold's grin. "Lead the way,"

. . . . . . . .

After a quick search on Arnold's phone, they determined that Albertson and Sons was located in Abington, about forty minutes away. The radio was turned to a mix station and served to fill the otherwise silence in the car for the first half of the ride until Helga ventured a question.

"So you know pretty much everything that's been going on with me," She began. "What have you been doing all these years?"

Arnold paused before responding. Should he tell her everything and unload all of that drama on her? If she was asking, she obviously wanted to know so maybe he should just be truthful. She had a point – it wasn't fair for him to know such in-depth things about her and then hide his own personal troubles. This wasn't the type of conversation he wanted to have while driving but she'd broached the subject so he might as well…

He chuckled nervously. "A lot," He paused and though he wasn't looking at her, Helga gave him an impatient look.

"Oh, really?" She said in mock fascination. "That's so interesting. I especially _love _your use of detail and elaboration, Football-head,"

Arnold rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "It's kind of tough to summarize everything. Where do you want me to start?"

Helga paused for a second to think. "Start with after high school,"

Arnold released a long exhale. "Well, you know I was dating Lila,"

"Mhm," Helga hummed in an unimpressed tone and Arnold swore if he looked over, he would've seen her rolling her eyes.

"Uh, well," He stammered, all of a sudden very nervous telling Helga about his relationship with Lila. "We ended up getting married and we moved to a different city for a little while but then we came back when my grandpa died and now she's kind of gone and I don't really know what's going on sooo yeah," Arnold said in one breath, his gaze remained fixed to the road as he turned onto an off-ramp.

"Did you learn how to breathe during that time?" Helga remarked sarcastically, surprised by his little outburst. "Criminy,"

"Sorry," Arnold muttered as he pulled up to a stoplight and sighed. "There's been some crazy stuff going on and I… I'm fine with telling you about it but maybe it should wait until we're back at the cottage? Or at least until I'm not driving," The light turned and the car revved to life as he picked up speed again.

"Okay," Helga said, her curiosity still piqued. "But… you just said Lila's _gone_? Did you two split up or something?"

"No," Arnold replied. "Well, we were probably on our way to that but no, that's not what I meant," He said as he slowed to a stop at another red light. "She just kind of disappeared and it looked like she'd been abducted or hurt or something but there's a lot of stuff that makes me think it was a set-up,"

"Damn," Helga breathed. "That's nuts,"

"Tell me about it…" Arnold muttered, starting to drive again. "And…" He paused, considering whether he wanted to admit this or not but he had nothing to hide. "The cops think I did it,"

He wasn't sure how to take her silence when she didn't respond right away. Was she frightened or worried? Was she second-guessing accepting his assistance? What was she thinking? He agonized in the brief minute of quiet between them until he heard Helga guffaw.

"They think _you _did it?" Helga laughed heartily but quickly settled. "Man, that's rich… Mr. Do-Gooder, himself," She grinned widely when Arnold shot her a look.

"Well, they do," Arnold sighed. "They arrested me and I have to go to trial in a couple months,"

"That's insane," Helga said in a more serious tone. "But you think it was staged?"

"Yeah," Arnold said as they pulled into a parking lot. "Let's talk more when we leave? I don't really want to discuss this kind of thing around other people if you don't mind,"

"Whatever floats your boat," Helga obliged as she opened her door and stepped out.

. . . . . . . .

Their outing had proved successful, though they left with more questions than answers. Upon arriving at Albertson and Sons, they'd found an employee who recognized the man in the picture as the former owner of the company, Mr. Frank Albertson, with his wife, Roberta. The employee had called in Josh Albertson, one of Frank's sons, to speak with them. After a short discussion with them and a brief phone call to his mother, Josh offered to escort Arnold and Helga to his parents' house a few blocks away.

"Thanks for agreeing to speak with us," Helga said politely as Mrs. Albertson invited them into her home with Josh following behind. Arnold smiled slightly, thinking about how different Helga was. Even though she'd mellowed out in high school, hearing her being so polite was still new.

"It's no trouble," Roberta smiled. She was a stoutly older woman with frizzy brown hair in need of another dye job. "My late husband, Frank, actually worked for Mr. Bauer, William, when he first got together – before he started his business," She escorted the three to the kitchen where they sat at a large wooden table. Arnold noted that Josh had probably only stuck around to make sure his mom was safe and that they weren't axe-murderers or something. "So, what can I do to help you?"

Helga put the photo album she'd been carrying around on top of the table and turned it around so that Roberta could see. "This is you and your husband, right?" She asked, pointing to the couple standing behind Marguerite and taking pictures.

Roberta picked up a pair of glasses that were sitting on the far end of the table, put them on, and squinted at the picture. "Yes," She said, pulling the album closer to her on the table and smiling. "This was our second wedding anniversary," The woman's eyes softened as she reminisced on fond memories.

"You wouldn't happen to still have the pictures you took that day, would you?" Arnold inquired.

Pulled out of her reverie, Roberta nodded. "I might," She said as she stood up and walked over to a bookcase in the foyer. Arnold and Helga waited patiently as Roberta searched through her albums and Josh poured himself a glass of water from the tap in the kitchen.

"I think this is it," Roberta said from the other room before appearing at the table again. She sat the album down next to Helga and stood by her, flipping through the pages until Helga started to recognize pictures of a parade.

"Right there!" Helga exclaimed when Roberta flipped to a page with Marguerite's face turned to the camera but half out of the frame. Peering closely, she could see a figure on the other side of the street that was facing the camera (and Marguerite) rather than the direction in which the crowd was looking. "Arnold, look," Helga said as she turned the album and Arnold craned his neck to see. Sure enough, there was a man on the other side of the street directly facing Marguerite. He was wearing a bright red blazer but his face was completely out of focus.

"Can we take this picture?" Helga asked. "Do you mind?"

Roberta thought for a moment but agreed. "I have plenty of pictures of the parade, dear," She said as she removed the photo from its transparent sleeve. "You can have this one,"

After they left and were alone in the car once again, Helga exclaimed, "Arnold, do you realize what this is?"

"Yeah," Arnold said with a tinge of doubt in his voice. "But it's so out of focus, Helga. All we can really see is that it's probably a guy and they're wearing a red blazer,"

"You're computer savvy; can't you edit it and make it clear?" Helga pushed impatiently.

Arnold laughed. "I mean, maybe," He shrugged as he backed out of the driveway. "I can try but the picture is old and there are no guarantees,"

"Anything's better than nothing, Football-head," Helga said as she stared at the photo in her hands, willing it to become clear. "If we can see this guy's face then we could be looking at Marguerite's killer…"


	21. Chapter 18

**[A/N: Hey guys! Thanks so much for your reviews :) I'm hoping to get this story done before the end of the year, if possible. The next few weeks will be insane with school but the end is in sight and we're almost to the end of the story! There are still several twists and turns ahead so I hope you enjoy reading! And as always, please review! ^_^**

**D/C: I don't own Hey Arnold]**

"She hung up on me," Helga muttered in a frustrated tone later that afternoon after yet another unsuccessful conversation with Brooke Wellington. They'd gone back to the cottage to continue their investigation. "I swear, that woman's locked up tighter than a chastity belt," Helga grumbled as she plopped down on the couch as Arnold sat at the table on his laptop.

Arnold stifled a laugh at Helga's inappropriate joke and continued with his business. He was currently working on his laptop trying to adjust the focus of the picture they found of the man across the street but with little luck. As much as he attempted to sharpen the image, they still couldn't identify any defining features other than the fact that the guy had dark brown hair and was probably average height for a man.

"I mean, criminy," Helga continued, looking through her phone. "Why avoid the conversation so much unless there's something to hide?" She turned and leaned against the back of the couch cushions so she was facing Arnold. "If she's anything like her daughter, I don't trust her,"

Arnold sighed without responding to Helga's comment, "This is the best my software can do," He turned the laptop toward Helga and she tossed her phone on the couch. "Which isn't much, unfortunately,"

"Let me see," Helga said as she walked over and squinted at the still blurry image. "Criminy. The one great lead we find and we don't even know what the hell we're lookin' at,"

At that moment, Helga was startled by the sound of her phone ringer going off. She left Arnold's side and he watched as she walked back over to the couch and answered the call, leaning against the arm of the sofa as she did so.

"Hey William, what's up?" She said casually but her brow furrowed with concern only a moment later. Arnold looked on with earnest, mouthing, 'What is it?' to which Helga only put up her index finger for him to wait.

"They're sure?" Helga's tone was grave and Arnold's concern was deepening. What could be going on _now?_ It seemed as though there was always something going wrong lately.

Helga nervously tapped her fingers along the couch's armrest. "Okay," She said brusquely and sighed, her eyes softening but her jaw still clenched and set. "Okay, thanks, Will…Keep me updated… Bye,"

"What is it?" Arnold repeated his question out loud.

Helga half-sat on the arm of the couch and stared at her phone for a second before responding. "William just called with Rich's autopsy report,"

Arnold paused, waiting patiently for her to continue.

"It wasn't his heart, Arnold," Helga breathed slowly, obviously trying to keep herself calm. "They found a bunch of tranquilizers or something in his system,"

"What?" Arnold said in surprise as he stood up from the table and moved closer to her. "You can't be serious,"

"It's what the report said, apparently," Helga shrugged and despite her guarded appearance with her arms folded over and her brow set and furrowed, Arnold could see the sadness and fear billowing in her eyes. "I _knew _something was fucked up when I saw that mark on Rich's neck," She said, half to Arnold, half to no one in particular. "William said the cops are investigating but they're keeping it quiet for now,"

Arnold ran a hand through his hair. "Okay, so now what do we do?" He asked as he processed this new information. "This is getting dangerous, Helga,"

"Like I don't know that, Football-head?" Helga snapped at him, then immediately bit her lip and tilted her gaze away. "Sorry,"

"Look, I'll help you no matter what but I wouldn't be being honest if I said I didn't think this whole situation was getting out of hand," Arnold confessed. "I mean, you got _shot_ and I know everyone, yourself included, has been brushing that off as a possible accident and not taking it as seriously as maybe they should but Helga… Someone… If someone put that stuff…" Arnold struggled to vocalize the thought even though it danced around in his head, taunting and terrifying him. "Someone murdered Rich," Arnold said quietly and Helga winced at the words.

"Don't you see, though?" Helga pushed. "That means we're getting close,"

"Don't _you _see that this means _you _are putting yourself in danger?" Arnold countered. "You could get hurt! Or worse!"

Helga let out an exasperated sigh. "Why do you even care, Arnold?"

Taken aback, Arnold looked at her quizzically. "What do you mean? Why –"

"I just don't get it," Helga said softly, shaking her head and standing up. "I mean, the last time I saw you, you were all over Lila Sawyer and now all of a sudden, you're here but you've actually been helping me all this time… I just… I don't get it," She shrugged and sat back down on the armrest and Arnold let out a slow breath. To be honest, he didn't quite understand what he was doing or why either. It just felt right.

Arnold tentatively moved over to her and leaned against the armrest with her, severely overestimating how much space there was for him to sit and Helga's pulse quickened at how close he was all of a sudden.

Arnold sat next to her, his head tilted down and his hands in his lap as he formulated words. He wanted to explain things but really, how could he explain something to her that he didn't completely understand himself? He'd never fully understood her or the relationship they had with one another. Despite everything she'd ever done that should've made him hate her, he never could. She was a mystery to him and somehow, despite every mean thing she said or did, despite every time she rejected his attempts at friendship, he couldn't give up on her. She was like a plain wooden box, unpolished and unsanded, that left him with splinters whenever he tried to get too close. But there had been a few incredible, though brief, moments in which he'd caught a glimpse into the inside of that box and when he did, it took his breath away. The marvels within that box only left him craving more answers and so he returned to it again and again, wondering. What other amazing things dwelled in that plain, splintering box that he hadn't yet seen? That was Helga. And it drew him to her every time.

"I care about you," Arnold said quietly, shrugging. "I can't tell you _why_ I care, I just… do," Helga glanced at his hands as he wrung them together in his lap. He tilted his head so he could see her face the slightest bit and when she met his gaze, the two of them quickly realized how close they were, their faces only inches apart. Arnold quickly got up.

"Um," He said, looking everywhere but at her and trying to power through the sudden rush of embarrassment that he was sure was flooding to his cheeks. "Look, I, I want to help and –"

"You can," Helga said and Arnold turned to her, suddenly astounded by how open her face was. It almost took his breath away how, for a brief moment, there seemed to be no wall separating him from her and it was a strange, bewildering sight to see her so genuine.

Helga sighed, "I can use all the help I can get," She shrugged and put on a half-hearted smirk. "I just can't give up on this. Helga G. Pataki is no quitter," She flashed him a sarcastic smile and he reflexively smiled back.

"Yeah, I know," He said absent-mindedly. "Um, okay… so if we're going through with this we need to be careful,"

"Yeah, you're right," Helga said and Arnold could pick up on her sarcasm before she'd even finished her sentence. "I should probably stop walking around with explosives in my mouth and a target on my back,"

Arnold rolled his eyes. "Okay, so what do we do from here?"

"Let's take another look at Marguerite's journal,"

. . . . . . . .

It'd been a week since Lila's first attempt at leaving Stinky's house. Her first attempt at sneaking out had been unsuccessful. Try as she had to convince him that she would be fine and that she would come back, he hadn't been as gullible as she'd once thought. Sure, he believed that she was in trouble and needed help but since then, he hadn't let her out of his sight. He was convinced that she had some kind of "battered woman syndrome" and that she would just try and go back to Arnold and put herself in the same situation she'd been in before. He wanted to protect her and he had good intentions but Lila was losing her patience. Stinky had no idea why she really wanted to leave. She needed revenge against the man who hurt her, who shattered her into so many pieces when she was only a girl. And she needed to know about her mother's past. She needed to know the truth.

So since then, she'd been biding her time, playing up her façade as the wounded and abused housewife in need of love and care and protection. She needed time to come up with a plan – something that wouldn't blow her cover with Stinky but would allow her the freedom to do what she needed to do.

Lila was stirred from her thoughts by a gentle knock on the wooden door of her temporary bedroom.

"Hey Lila," Stinky's voice, despite its drawl, was warm and genuine. "I'm makin' pork chops for dinner, if you want some," He smiled at her and she propped her head up with one hand as she lay atop the homemade quilt on her bed.

"I'll be down in a little while, Stinky," She said sweetly. "Thanks for thinking of me,"

Stinky grinned ear to ear, completely oblivious to her deceit. "No trouble at all," He nodded respectfully to her and ducked out of her room, still smiling the hapless smile of a man in love.

. . . . . . . .

Helga and Arnold worked late into the evening, revisiting old newspapers and photos again and again until they couldn't see straight. They were trying to find some sort of connection between Marguerite's life and the names and numbers in her journal. Helga had called the officer who'd dealt with Marguerite's case when she first went missing but that wasn't much help, either. Apparently they'd exhausted every simple option they could think of – phone numbers, mostly but they couldn't find a lead. Helga thought the names and numbers could be somehow linked to Marguerite's religious life so she tried focusing on that area but it'd been a long, grueling process so far.

The days were beginning to get longer but night still fell quickly. Clouds had rolled in earlier that evening and now a thunderstorm shook the trees outside with vigor. Arnold and Helga had spent much of the night on their laptops at the table, taking turns refreshing their supply of coffee and running ideas by one another as they thought of them. By ten o' clock, Helga had begun to think they should give up for the night until Arnold stirred.

She eyed him curiously when he began typing furiously, his eyes emblazoned with a newfound excitement. "What did you find?" She asked.

Arnold furrowed his brow in thought but when his screen loaded, he exclaimed, "Yes! That makes sense,"

"C'mon, Football-head," Helga said, standing up and moving to his side of the table so that she could see his screen. "What did you figure out?"

"I found the connection between the numbers," Arnold said, only slightly masking his pride. "I went with your idea that these are somehow related to religion and look –" He pointed to the screen and read from it. "'The Book of Leviticus is the third book of the Hebrew Bible,'"

"Okay, and?" Helga asked, unimpressed.

"Look at the numbers, Helga," Arnold said, grabbing the journal from where it sat on the table between them and pointing. "Each number starts with a '3' and then look," He returned to his keyboard and pulled up another webpage. "This one is 'Magda 30112', right? Well, what if all of these numbers are Bible verses? So Magda would be Leviticus and then chapter one, verse twelve," He explained, an almost child-like excitement escaping in his tone. "And this one, 'Sara 32016' would be Leviticus, chapter twenty, verse sixteen,"

"That makes sense!" Helga said incredulously. "Pull up the verses, let's read them,"

"I've got this one up already," Arnold said, clicking to an open tab on his browser.

"' And he shall cut it into its pieces, with its head and its fat: and the priest shall lay them in order on the wood that is on the fire which is upon the altar,'" Helga read. "Okay, that's freaky," She said bluntly. "So, what about the others? What's the connection?"

"I'm not sure, let me look," Arnold said and Helga stood watching over his shoulder as he pulled up each of the bible verses. Outside the wind was howling as thunder cracked and lightning lit up the sky. Inside the cottage, the lighting was dim – the ceiling light in the kitchen area was on as well as a floor lamp over by the TV but when the lightning flashed, the light from outside came through the window blind, further illuminating the room. "Other than being bible verses from the same book, I'm not sure what else pulls them all together," Arnold said once he'd copied and pasted all of the verses into a document.

"Email that doc to me, would ya?" Helga said as she moved to return to her seat but at that moment, a clap of thunder was heard and barely a second later, the power in the cottage went out. "Or not, great,"

"It's okay, Helga," Arnold said as he went into his email inbox to compose a new message. "I'm running on battery now so I'll save everything real quick and send you the verses,"

The room was even darker than before with only the dim light from their laptops to guide them. Helga walked over to the counter in the kitchen area and began digging through drawers in search of a candle or flashlight. While they had some light at the table, over by the couch and TV, the room seemed to be pitch black and they couldn't expect their laptop batteries to run all night.

Once Arnold finished saving all of their work, he began to help Helga look for alternative sources of light. Helga managed to find a flashlight in one of the kitchen drawers and Arnold found a used candle in the hall closet.

"Here," Helga said, tossing Arnold a pack of matches she'd dug out of the kitchen drawer and he quickly lit the candle.

Helga walked over to the window and pushed aside the blinds to look outside. She could barely see anything with the downpour going on outside. "Looks like you're crashing here tonight, Football-head,"

"Is it that bad?" Arnold said, walking toward the window. "I don't want to impose,"

"Good grief, Arnold," Helga rolled her eyes and turned to him. "It's bad enough that the power went out. You're not imposing," She said gruffly as she disappeared from the room. In the dim light, it looked like she'd gone down the hallway and a few moments later, she returned with a dark red crocheted blanket. "Here," She thrust the blanket into Arnold's hands and he carefully avoided it coming into contact with the candle he was still holding as he carefully placed the candle on the coffee table. "Do you need a pillow?" She asked and Arnold was mildly surprised by how hostess-like she sounded. He also noted that she hadn't offered Rich's former room to him. Then again, even if she had, he would've refused.

"No, the couch pillows will be fine," Arnold said good-naturedly as he draped the blanket over the back of the couch. "How long do you think the power will be out?"

Helga deadpanned. "Just a sec, let me consult my crystal ball over here… criminy, Arnold, I don't know!" She exclaimed sarcastically and Arnold simply sighed. Even if she had changed over the years, her sarcasm could become exhausting at times.

"Alright, well," Arnold sighed, shrugging. "What do you wanna do, then? We probably should limit how much we use our laptops just in case we're out of power for a while,"

"Yeah," Helga agreed as she plopped down on the couch and Arnold followed. "At least we found some kind of lead. I just wish we could do more with it,"

"We will," Arnold affirmed, pausing in thought for a second. "Do you think the names could be connected to the verses somehow? I didn't see anyone with those names mentioned specifically in the verses but –"

Helga suddenly cut him off. "What if it's not _about_ the verses?" She turned excitedly to him. "What if it's not about _religion_ at all? What if it's a code?"

The gears in Arnold's head began to turn, quickly picking up speed. "That would make sense… like if the names refer to real people she knew and the verses are saying something about them,"

"Holy shit, Arnold," Helga's eyes widened with a sudden realization. "Those verses are brutal; what if they're describing someone's murder and Marguerite was keeping some kind of log about it?"

"Like she saw a pattern!" Arnold exclaimed. "Or maybe… maybe she knew who did it?"

Helga groaned. "Ughhhh, I wish I could use my laptop,"

"Go ahead and look it up really quick, Helga," Arnold nodded toward the table where their laptops sat. "A few minutes shouldn't hurt,"

"I wasn't plugged in," Helga grumbled. "My battery's probably on its last legs anyway,"

"Use mine then,"

Helga got up from the couch and retrieved Arnold's laptop from the table, then returned to the couch where he sat waiting. She opened it and a box popped up asking for a password.

"Here," Arnold said, leaning over to type in his password and all of a sudden Helga was very aware of how close he was. His hair was in her face, she could smell the faintest hint of his fading cologne, and she could feel the slight brush of his body leaning across hers and a sort of electricity jolted her. She didn't move a muscle and Arnold seemed none the wiser when he leaned away from her as his desktop loaded. "There you go," He said and Helga quickly started searching for news articles.

Arnold sat waiting patiently, quietly wondering why Helga had become so quiet and stiff all of a sudden but brushing it off as his imagination.

"Ohhh shit, Arnold," Helga breathed as she turned the laptop toward him. "Look at this,"

She'd pulled up an article about a homicide case from a few decades ago.

"'Sara Witt was found murdered in her family's barn outside Concordia in 1975,'" Helga read from the dim screen and Arnold scooted closer to her.

"Sara?" Arnold parroted curiously.

"Yeah, listen," Helga said, continuing to read. "'Authorities believe the attack happened between the hours of two and three in the morning. The woman's body was found disfigured, possibly as a result of a religious ritual. Police have declined comment on any further details.'"

"Did they find out who did it?" Arnold inquired and Helga skimmed through the rest of the article.

"No," She said in a sober tone. "The case was never solved," She looked up at Arnold whose face had contorted in thought.

"What's the verse for 'Sara' say?" Arnold asked and Helga quickly typed into the search bar in a new tab.

"'If a woman approaches an animal to have sexual relations with it, kill both the woman and the animal,'" Helga read. "'They are to be put to death; their blood will be on their own heads," They both let the meaning of the verse soak in for a few minutes.

"It's a long shot but we should check it out," Arnold said, re-reading the article on the screen. "We can go in the morning,"

"Works for me," Helga said quietly as she closed the laptop and leaned her head back against the couch cushion.


	22. Chapter 19

**[A/N: Okay, ya'll! This one's gonna be a doozy so I hope you like it. It's basically a combination of "Awwww" and "OH SHIT" lol XD. The plot is thickening! My question, however, is whether or not this story still counts as rated T. PLEASE let me know if you think it needs to be changed to M. I'd prefer to keep it at T so if you have any suggestions that would keep me from crossing the line (without losing the essence of the story) please let me know. I don't want to anger the rating gods! lol That being said, the end of this chapter may come as a shock. Be prepared.**

**D/C: I don't own Hey Arnold]**

Later that night, Helga had yet to fall asleep. She couldn't stop the thoughts racing through her head and by one in the morning, she accepted the fact she wasn't getting much rest tonight. The candle Arnold had found was sitting on the nightstand by her bed, casting the slightest of glows over that one section of the room and leaving the rest in darkness. The light was warm and calming, unlike the thoughts swirling around in Helga's mind.

She held the old photo of Brooke - the one that everyone had assumed was a picture of Marguerite. She was standing in one of the windows of her parents' home, facing away from the camera so you could only see her profile. Whoever took the picture had been a reasonable distance away from the house and whether they had intended to capture this fleeting image was uncertain.

Everyone had thought it was the last picture of Marguerite before she disappeared, however, Helga now knew that whatever the last picture of Marguerite was, this wasn't it. This was Brooke, and the more she studied the image, the more she couldn't believe no one had realized sooner. Their features were so similar though: the dark hair, the naturally perfect and pretty facial structure - it all had seemed to fit. And there, resting around her neck, was the necklace Helga had seen Adrienne wearing several times.

What bothered Helga was why Brooke hadn't told anyone that it was her in the picture. She had to have known that everyone assumed it was Marguerite - the police had kept this picture on hand throughout the investigation. Why had Brooke concealed the identity - her identity - of the woman in the window? Could she have had something to hide and if she did, what exactly? From what she'd hear so far, Brooke and Marguerite had been best friends… would Brooke really have harmed Marguerite? When Marguerite disappeared, Brooke hadn't had an alibi but she also hadn't been a suspect. Truthfully, Helga didn't know Brooke or what she was capable of. She knew her daughter, Rhonda, and she tried to think about whether she could imagine Rhonda hurting or killing her best friend and under what circumstances. Could it be possible? Anything was possible, right? But at this point, it was all speculation. There were still so many pieces of information that they were missing and Helga hoped that in the morning, she and Arnold could continue to unearth more secrets and unravel the mystery.

Arnold.

Why was she getting so worked up around him? Why couldn't she stay calm? Even if it didn't appear so on the outside, she felt a whirlwind of emotions pick her up every time he got close to her. She felt dizzy and confused with nostalgia and a resurgence of longing capturing her breath and holding it hostage. She'd spent years mourning the loss of him, forcing herself to never think of him directly, lest she completely disintegrate into a pile of ashes. It was still surreal to adjust to the fact that he was alive, and not just that, but actually in her life, helping her as he always did. It felt like a dream that she never wanted to wake up from. Could she still… no, that was a dangerous thought. The love she'd felt for him all her life had been all-consuming and she couldn't imagine the pain of losing him again if she were to allow her heart to feel such things.

And what about Rich? She'd begun to love him, too, right? Hadn't she? She'd begun to think so but now she couldn't be sure. Regardless, she felt guilty. She felt guilty for her reluctant loyalty to Arnold and a love they had never shared. She felt guilty for not mourning Rich enough. How could she love anyone? She had once wondered if her feelings for Rich were betraying her love for Arnold but now she worried that those dormant feelings for Arnold were a betrayal of Rich and his memory. Nothing seemed to make sense anymore and now Rich was gone. Murdered, no less, and she felt like she was suffocating - drowning in her confusion and love and guilt and pain.

The longer Helga thought about it, the more emotional she became until she couldn't contain herself any longer. Her emotions crept up on her, finally pouncing and releasing tears that stained her pillow and a hiccuping breathing pattern that tired her already burdened chest.

Out in the living room, Arnold had been sleeping on the couch until he heard a strange sound. As he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, he realized it sounded like someone crying and as he finally came to awareness, he realized it was Helga who was crying. He grabbed the flashlight from the coffee table and flicked the switch, illuminating a tunnel of light in his path as he got up from the couch to investigate. He caught the side of his leg on the coffee table's edge and grunted in pain for a moment before continuing. He paused at Helga's door and listened. He could hear her soft whimpering that periodically escalated to a deeper cry, muffled against her pillow. He felt pangs in his heart, hearing her pain, and he gently knocked against the wooden door of her room.

"Helga?" He called softly. "Are you okay?"

When she didn't respond, he tentatively cracked the door open, peering inside. The light from her candle combined with the light from his flashlight and suddenly the room was a little brighter.

"Hey," His voice was soft and warm as he approached her bed. She was bundled up in her blanket in the small twin bed, her blonde hair splayed across her pillow and her back facing him as she lay on her side. He could see the slight shaking of her shoulders and knew he hadn't misinterpreted the sound of her crying. "Hey," He said again, just as gently, as he sat down on the floor next to her bed. "What's going on?"

She didn't respond right away and Arnold sighed. Maybe he should leave her alone. Even though she'd been receptive toward him in the hospital, he still wasn't sure how to expect her to react to her concern. For most of the time he'd known her, she would push him away or supply some kind of bitter retort. Only in the hospital, when she had been the weakest and most vulnerable he'd ever seen her, had she openly accepted his compassion and his embraces. What could he expect now?

He was thinking about getting up and leaving her alone when she suddenly heaved a deep breath and started to turn over. He bit his tongue and waited to see her reaction to him being there. However, when she turned over, she didn't say anything. She was facing him now but she met his gaze for only a second before casting her eyes down in thought. They could barely see each other in the dim lighting but there was something enigmatic about her. Tears hung from her eyelashes and she blinked them away as her breathing calmed. In a combination of instinct and impulse, Arnold reached his hand up to her, resting the back of his hand on her mattress as he offered his exposed palm. Helga looked it for a second, moving nothing but her eyes, before gently placing a limp hand in his. He offered her a soft smile and wrapped her hand in his, brushing his thumb against her hand in repetitive, affectionate circles. Nothing went through his head other than wanting her to feel better. Nothing more than wanting her to be okay, to stop crying, and to smile. He wasn't sure where that desire came from but it seemed to be a recurring instinct in his life that he never quite understood - he just accepted it.

"What are you doing here?" Helga finally spoke in a low voice after several minutes of silence. She sounded so pure and open and vulnerable and it almost took a double-take for Arnold to realize this was the same Helga who'd tormented him throughout most of their school years together.

"I heard you crying," Arnold answered simply, his gaze resting on their hands, and he noticed Helga subtly gripping his a little tighter.

"Sorry," She murmured as she exhaled a short breath.

"No, no," Arnold whispered, rubbing circles into the soft skin of her hand. "It's okay," He paused. "Do you wanna talk about it? You don't have to if you don't want to,"

Helga was quiet for a moment, then inhaled deeply, her body relaxing as the air exited her lungs. She'd stopped crying but was still feeling fragile. "You know, honestly, Arnold? I would… it's just, I have no idea where to start or just… what's wrong with me,"

"Hey," He scolded gently. "Nothing is wrong with you, okay?"

Helga let out a weak scoff and Arnold gripped her hand tighter for a second for emphasis. "I mean it, Helga. You're okay… and everything is gonna be okay," He said in an attempt at comforting her but really, he didn't even know what they were talking about it and with everything going on lately, he wasn't entirely sure if everything would be alright… but he had to be hopeful, if not for himself then at least to help her… right?

"You're such a deluded optimist," Helga finally smirked and Arnold felt relieved. Even if she was teasing him, it meant that she was feeling better and in that moment, that was all he was concerned with.

"Maybe," He shrugged with a grin of his own that widened reflexively when Helga finally met his gaze. Something about the way the flickering light of the candle danced in Helga's pale blue eyes took his breath away and for a moment, he was lost in them.

It was Helga who broke their eye contact when she turned to lay on her back but her hand never left his. It was as though both of them had forgotten that they were holding hands, as if the contact felt so natural that unless one of them moved, they didn't even notice.

Arnold braced himself against the edge of the bed with his free arm, scooting across the floor so that he was sitting close enough to rest his head in the crook of that arm. He could hear the soft sound of Helga's breathing, much calmer and more peaceful than before, soothing him to sleep like a lullaby. He studied his left hand, still holding Helga's secure, as his eyes fluttered closed and he fell asleep.

. . . . . . . .

"Lila…" Rhonda murmured, half asleep as she stretched in her bed, her cell phone propped between her head and her pillow. "It's the middle of the night; what's going on?"

Lila's lack of response alarmed Rhonda and she quickly forced herself to wake up more. "Are you okay?"

At Stinky's house, Lila sat on the edge of a double-bed with the light of two nightstands illuminating the room. "I don't… I don't know, Rhonda,"

Rhonda groaned as she sat up in bed, holding her phone to her ear. "Dammit, Lila," She grumbled in a mixture of frustration and exasperated concern. "What is going on with you?"She softened her tone. "I know you wanted to get back at Arnold for cheating on you - you've done it, okay? I don't understand why you need to be so secretive or why you and my mom are having these private conversations that neither of you is willing to tell me about!"

Lila drew in a deep breath, her eyes vacantly staring at the floor in front of her as she listened to Rhonda.

"I mean," Rhonda said more calmly. "Lila, you're my best friend. You've been my best friend since high school… I just want to know what's going on and I'm… I'm worried about you," She said and when Lila remained quiet, she continued to talk. "How far are you going to go with this Arnold thing? Ugh," She groaned. "I can't believe you did this without talking to me first. Everyone thinks you're dead now, Lila. What the hell? Arnold is looking at possibly going to jail for the rest of his life. Was that your plan? I don't know how you expect to come back from this…" Lila was still quiet. "Why won't you tell me anything anymore?" Rhonda almost whimpered.

"It's too late now," Lila said cryptically.

"What?" Rhonda said, more confused now than before. "What are you talking about?"

"It won't matter soon anyway," Lila said more forcefully, though she was still vacant and dissociated. She fidgeted with the hem of her nightgown.

"Lila, what's going on?" Rhonda asked then paused. "Come on… you're scaring me… are you okay?"

"I'm doing what I need to do," Lila said and Rhonda began to feel desperate.

"Please tell me what's going on," Rhonda begged. "You know I'd do whatever I could to help you,"

Lila was quiet for a moment. "I have to do this alone," She said. "You're my best friend, too, Rhonda," And with that, she hung up, leaving Rhonda more confused, worried, and frustrated than ever.

Little was she aware, however, of what was truly going on with Lila. When Lila hung up, she held the phone thoughtfully in her lap before looking over to the other side of the bed. The sight of blood all over the sheets didn't phase her for some reason, probably because none of it seemed real. Even as she felt the warm red liquid soaking through her nightgown, she felt disconnected from it, like she was in a dream or watching a movie. It couldn't have been her.

But it had to be. No one could protect her but herself.

Stinky's lifeless body lay sprawled along the other side of the bed, his head still resting on one of the pillows and a slit across his throat where she'd caught him with a box cutter she found in his toolbox.

She couldn't let him keep her here and she couldn't convince him otherwise. She needed to find the man who attacked her… the man who may have hurt her mother. Nothing could stand in her way and she needed to keep telling herself that in order to keep up the disconnect. She needed to rationalize what she was doing… what she'd done… things that she hadn't even thought about for long enough before she'd done them.

She stood up from the bed and walked awkwardly over to Stinky's side of the bed. His eyes were open but vacant, his last expression of shock at the betrayal evident on his face. She'd known what she was doing when she'd seduced him. She knew he loved her and would gladly accept her advances. She knew what she was doing when she'd planted the box cutter under one of the pillows and when she'd pulled him on top of her. What she hadn't expected was the sudden rush of memories: the fear, the paranoia, the anger, the outrage, the anxiety, the despair. She'd distracted him with ecstasy and longing and when he finally met his release is when she betrayed him, flipping him over until the life drained from his body. She acted out the revenge she sought but this was not him. This was not her attacker. He was in her way but he had never betrayed her, never torn and bruised her body. He'd only loved her but she was so dissociated, she couldn't decide if that mattered anymore. Tears had welled up in her eyes and a flash of humanity within her wondered if she was making a mistake but it was too late.

Lila gently brushed her fingers over Stinky's face, lowering his eyelids, before leaving a soft kiss on his forehead. Without another thought, she gathered her belongings and the cash she could find in Stinky's wallet, and disappeared into the night.

**[A/N: Yup. Lila's done lost her mind... Stay tuned for more of the mystery unraveling! And please review :)]**


	23. Author's Note: I AM SO SORRY

**[A/N: Hello all! I feel I owe you a note/apology so here I am!**

**First of all, I am so sorry for having neglected this story for so long! Between school, work, life, and other fics, it just fell off the radar. There's no excuse T-T**

**BUT on the bright side, I wanted to let you all know that there are (at least) THREE chapters remaining to this story and THE OUTLINES ARE DONE. I just need to flesh everything out which means, sitting still long enough to write something down ... sigh. **

**Fingers crossed, I will try and put a new chapter out sometime during the holiday weekend. Like I said, the skeleton is there, I just need to flesh out the details. **

**To those of you still sticking around to see what happens in this fic, I apologize for the long wait and thank you for your patience. I will do my best to finish this story AT LEAST BEFORE THE JUNGLE MOVIE COMES OUT HUZZAH! **

**You're all fabulous. Happy Thanksgiving!]**


	24. Chapter 20

**[A/N: It has literally taken me FOREVER, ****_BUT _****I finally present to all you wonderful, patient people, an update! This story is not dead, I've just had a lot going on and other fic ideas that took over my ADHD brain and well... yeah, that's what happened. **

**Eitherwho, there will be a handful of chapters after this so we are VERY close to the end. It's time to start wrapping up this mystery! I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think/what you predict will happen. I'm going to try my DARNDEST to get the rest of the chapters out in a much more reasonable time frame but your reviews are a huge motivation so please leave a comment! Honestly, this story has been ressurrected as a result of an anon who reviewed recently and that was enough to make me say, 'you know what? I need to finish this'. Your feedback is so powerful, guys!**

**Anywho, I hope you enjoy and once again, thank you for reading and not giving up totally on this fic!]**

The sun's rays peeping in through the blinds over Helga's window were what first brought her to stir the following morning. As sleep fell away and her surroundings became familiar, she immediately noticed Arnold's form on the floor beside her bed. He was still hunched over in what appeared to be an uncomfortable position by her bed, one hand still holding hers and his head resting against the other arm that supported itself on the edge of the bed. Helga gently pulled her hand from Arnold's light grasp and watched for any sign that he would soon wake up. He stirred slightly and Helga took advantage of the precious few moments that she could watch him, studying his features, before he would become aware of her gaze.

Arnold grumbled as he slowly lifted his head, his back full of kinks from an awkward sleeping position. They must have been exhausted to have barely moved during the night.

"Hey," He said in a gruff voice as he slowly realized where he was and that Helga was already awake.

"Morning," Helga said softly, still buried under the safety of her blanket.

Arnold yawned as he rubbed his face and turned his gaze to the window. "What time is it?"

Helga grabbed her phone from the night table by her bed. "Almost 11,"

"Hmm," Arnold said, standing up slowly as if he didn't trust his aching muscles to support his weight. "I'm… gonna make breakfast,"

"Okay," Helga said but Arnold had already slipped out of the room.

_He stayed there the whole night. _Helga thought to herself in wonder as she threw her blanket off of her and closed her bedroom door to get dressed.

When Helga came out of her room ten minutes later, she could already smell the robust scent of bacon sizzling in a pan on the stove. Arnold was stirring a bowl of well-beaten eggs that was destined for another skillet. He didn't immediately notice her as she stood in the doorway separating the main living area from the hallway. She watched his movements, his back facing her and her mind whirring.

Maybe they should consider turning this over to the police. With Rich's death under investigation as a possible, and likely, homicide, and the incident with her getting shot in the woods (maybe it was a hunting accident but her gut told her probably not), staying on this island and continuing the investigation seemed more and more dangerous the longer she thought about it. But then again, the cops had tried years ago and failed… and she'd promised Rich she would help solve this mystery. If she couldn't do anything else for him, didn't she at least owe it to his memory to try? They were so close to cracking it - she could feel it; there were just some pieces of the puzzle remaining. A flickering ember of the girl she once was, still hidden deep inside her, reminded her _Helga G. Pataki is no quitter. _She couldn't just give up, could she?

Unfortunately, while she may have been an excellent investigative journalist working with one of her best informants and she may have been William's last hope at closure, she still was not a cop. She didn't have authority and she didn't have a weapon or really any training that probably could come in handy if things turned south quickly.

Helga's eyes followed the muscles in Arnold's back as he reached for the cabinets overhead. She studied him without realizing that was what she was doing. She didn't want to put him in danger so that weighed on her mind as well.

She leaned against the doorframe with a sigh. Every day she had to get used to the fact that everything had changed. Arnold was alive and helping her, no less. The idea that the past several years of her life had hinged upon - that Arnold was dead - was completely null and void. So what did that mean in terms of her depression? Her organ donations? Her recent suicidal ideation? At present, she wanted nothing more than to live and take advantage of the time she had with Arnold but was she really okay? With everything going on, if something were to happen to Arnold, would she fall into that same spiral once again?

Helga was pulled out of her thoughts when Arnold turned around, noticing her.

"Oh hey," He said, turning the stove burner off. "I didn't hear you come out. I made scrambled eggs and bacon - hope that's alright?"

"Sounds great," Helga said nonchalantly as she walked over to the dining table and sat down.

Arnold wordlessly placed a plate of food in front of her before returning to the counter to straighten up and bring his own plate over. He was still wearing his night shirt and pajama pants, dark circles under his tired eyes.

Arnold took a bite of bacon, eyes purposefully cast down at his plate as his mind wandered. What was she thinking about? After their tender moment last night, he wasn't sure how to proceed nor did he understand why he felt so inclined to comfort her, hold her… this was more than just being compassionate and deep down, a part of him realized this. But another part of him realized how this could look… how it probably _already_ looked… His wife goes missing and he's under investigation by the cops and then all of a sudden he's shacking up with another woman? A woman he'd been more or less stalking for the past several years… Not that they were _doing _anything inappropriate _per se _but it still looked suspicious, he was sure. And after last night, he just felt even more confused. Even if nothing had happened between them, it was becoming more and more difficult to describe his feelings toward her as platonic. That thought alone was bizarre - he'd never given thought as to what stuck out about Helga in particular, never entertained the idea that his compassion toward her, his inclination and drive to be around her, talk to her, know her, and understand her could all be rooted in one thing…

But there was too much going on. And this was too confusing. Or maybe it wasn't confusing but rather, just too overwhelming for him to deal with right now. They had an objective - better to focus on that than to get caught up in something he wasn't sure he'd be able to stop once it started.

Arnold took a swig of the glass of orange juice in front of him. "Okay so, Sara Witt, right?"

"Huh?" Helga seemed to snap out of a daze, realizing she'd been pushing her eggs around her plate and eating phenomenally slowly. "Oh, right. Yeah, Sara,"

"We're checking the barn out today?" Arnold continued as Helga made more of an effort to eat, stuffing a fluffy hunk of egg into her mouth.

"Yup," She murmured, keeping her mouth mostly closed as she nodded.

"Okay," Arnold said, the awkwardness of their conversation beginning to fill the room like an invisible gas. "I'm gonna go get dressed then,"

Helga swallowed. "Sounds good," She said, taking a sip of her juice and keeping her gaze focused on her plate.

. . . . . . . .

The drive up north was a short but painfully quiet one. Despite the sun's brief presence earlier that morning, it'd quickly escaped behind clouds and cast the world around them in a gloomy, grey sheen, leftover from the night's rain. Both Helga and Arnold were lost in their own thoughts and despite their somewhat intimate moment the night before, they weren't sure how to fill the silence without feeling awkward.

The farm looked relatively abandoned, even despite the poor weather. There were no animals in the fields or by the barn and as Arnold pulled up alongside the farmhouse, gravel scraping along the tires and flinging against the metal underside of their vehicle, they both wondered if they had the right address.

"This is it, right?" Helga wondered aloud just as a heavy set man with a prominent bald patch on the top of his head lumbered out of the ramshackle house and made his way to Arnold's side of the car.

Arnold rolled the window down. "Good morning,"

"You're the reporters, right?" The man inquired brusquely.

"Well I'm -" Arnold began but Helga cut him off.

"I'm an investigative journalist," She said, then jerking a thumb at Arnold, "He's my assistant. You're Patrick Witt, right?"

The middle-aged man grunted, nodding in reply. "You can park over there by the fence," He gestured to the right and Arnold slowly peeled away from the house and stopped at the designated post.

"Sara was my sister-in-law," Patrick mused after the two had gotten out of the car and walked within hearing distance. "My brother couldn't sell the farm after what happened," He said wistfully as he led the two young adults down the dirt driveway, crossing a small patch of dirt and grass as they approached the barn. "It's been empty ever since," Arnold and Helga listened quietly, watching his movements as he unlatched the door and led them inside.

The air in the barn was damp yet stale and cobwebs all around indicated the old building hadn't served much use in quite a while.

"This is where she was found?" Helga inquired as they stepped inside, looking around at the hauntingly empty building. Despite the cobwebs and dust, it almost looked as though someone could have been tending to this barn just yesterday. It was too easy to imagine it full of life: horses neighing, chickens clucking as they strutted from pen to pen.

"Yep," Patrick replied concisely, leading them through the barn and passing several stalls until they came to the end. "She was lying right there," Patrick pointed to a stall in the corner, still covered in hay. His brow was furrowed and his voice tight as though even talking about it was still painful. "'_Pinioned and tortured'_, the papers said," He recalled sadly as the trio stood by the empty stall. "My brother was the one who found her… It really took a toll on him," He sighed. "Cops seemed to have gave up on the case a long time ago,"

Helga could almost envision the image of the young woman from the newspaper article, tied up and bleeding, her eyes vacant and lifeless. She shook away the thought as the bible verse popped into her head.

_If a woman approaches an animal to have sexual relations with it, kill both the woman and the animal. They are to be put to death; their blood will be on their own heads._

Patrick was saying something about how Sara used to help his brother manage the care of the horses when Helga emerged from her thoughts, cutting him off.

"Were any of the animals harmed?"

"Excuse me?" Patrick turned to her, caught off-guard. Arnold looked at her with interest as realization dawned on his face.

"When you found her," Helga repeated emphatically. "Were any of the animals hurt?"

Patrick furrowed his brow at her, "That was never - how did you know?"

. . . . . . . .

Arnold and Helga settled back into the rental car, buckling their seatbelts and sitting in silence as they processed the information they'd just received.

"It could just be a coincidence," Arnold offered after a few moments. "The verse matching up with the case like that,"

Helga's distant facial expression morphed into a challenging glare, one eyebrow raised. "That's bull and you know it," She said solemnly.

Arnold leaned back against his seat, swallowing that thought for a moment. The weight of this potential connection felt heavy on his chest. "Can you imagine… if the other verses fit, too?"

Helga didn't respond. The heaviness in the air in the car was enough to answer and communicate what they both were thinking. This case was proving to be bigger than either had originally imagined. Helga had spent much of her career exposing corruption in business and getting involved in social commentary. Unraveling a murder case had never been on her list of things to do until now.

As Arnold drove the car off the property, Helga did research on her phone, trying to find other potential links to the names in Marguerite's journal. The sky had become fully overcast and a light drizzle covered the roads in a slick sheen. Arnold put the windshield wipers on, the only sound in the otherwise quiet car.

"I can't find anything for B.J.," Helga said after twenty long minutes. They were almost back to the cottage at this point. "But I might have something for L.I."

"What is it?" Arnold asked curiously as they turned onto the bridge that would take them away from the mainland and back to the island.

Helga read directly from the dated article on her phone. "'1954 - Liv Igielski, a prostitute from Dover, found murdered on a construction site,"

"Wow," Arnold breathed. "Dover… that's like 45 minutes in the direction we just came from,"

"Well," Helga smirked, giving him a pointed look. "I guess you better turn around then, huh?"

. . . . . . . .

Their venture into Dover had only left them with more questions than answers. After arriving at the public library, they'd set out in search of any additional documents they could find on the old case. They'd found a handful that included gruesome pictures of the woman but much of the text was similar from paper to paper.

"What's the reference for L.I.?" Arnold asked, his voice tight as willed himself to look away from the image of the bound and bloodied woman in the paper.

Helga retrieved her phone from her pocket, pulling up the saved list. "'But if she cannot afford a lamb, she is to bring two doves or two young pigeons, one for a burnt offering and the other for a sin offering. In this way, the priest will make atonement for her, and she will be clean."

Arnold furrowed his brow. "What does that even mean? Are there birds involved in this one, do you think?"

Helga shrugged. "Maybe 'clean' is in reference to her being a prostitute?" She suggested, adding, "But wait a minute," She pointed to the date at the top of the article. "This happened in 1954,"

Arnold followed the direction of her pointer finger. "Yeah, okay," He nodded.

Helga sighed impatiently. "Okay, so Marguerite disappeared in the summer of 1971," She spaced each sentence out pointedly as Arnold listened, waiting for the connection. "She was 16… so…"

"In 1954, she wasn't even born yet!" Arnold exclaimed, his eyes widening with realization.

"Exactly," Helga nodded, her mind whirring with a dozen thoughts consuming her at once. "She was born in 1955. Now the question is -"

"Hold on, Helga," Arnold put up a hand, cutting her off and earning himself an indignant look from the blonde, though it quickly faded. "Regardless of the dates, Marguerite was listing women who'd been killed and then _she_ disappeared," He met Helga's gaze. "What does that tell you?"

"_Shit,_" Helga breathed. "She knew who the killer was,"


	25. Chapter 21

**[A/N: Hello all! So sorry for the delay - life has been busy and I've been really caught up with my Stranger Things fic XD I'm so in love with this show but anyway!**

**I am determined to finish this fic since it's already almost done. We're down to the nitty gritty and I got enough done to post an update so here we are :) It's been a while since I've written for HA so I hope everything still makes sense. At least, within the context of this story lol Arnold gets a little worked up but hey, he's human and he's got a lot on his mind, y'all XD**

**Reviews are welcome! Thank you for sticking by me through this drawn-out process. Muah!]**

Arnold and Helga spent much of the day scouring the library's old newspapers and records. They'd managed to connect Mari's verse to a murder in Lancaster and Magda to another in Templeton but their trail went cold when it came to B.J.

"Hey, check this out," Helga waved Arnold over to her computer and he leaned over her, scanning the screen as she tried to ignore the body heat emanating from him. "Um, I found this old show that digs into unsolved murder cases and look what popped up,"

"'_Madga Lavine…'_" Arnold read under his breath. "'_A brutal murder mystery that baffled police for decades,'_"

"Templeton's about thirty miles from here," Helga said matter-of-factly, keeping her focus on the task at hand instead of the way he smelled of soap and rain. "East, I think. I had a map up on here a second ago but regardless, check the reference," She said, skipping to another open tab and scrolling down to the reference she'd looked up earlier. "'_And he shall cut it into pieces, with its head and its fat, and the priest shall arrange them on the wood that is on the fire on the altar,'" _She finished reading and went back to the description of the murder. "There aren't any other details on this page but that's pretty fucking brutal,"

"It sounds like a match but we won't know for sure until we know the details of how she died," Arnold said solemnly, standing up straight and finally lessening the tension in Helga's anxious nerves. "How far did you say Templeton is from here?"

Helga shrugged, leaning back in her chair. "Probably an hour, maybe a little longer in the rain," She replied. "But everything's gonna be closed by the time we get there,"

"We're already pretty far from the cottage," Arnold reasoned, formulating the idea as he spoke. "Do you want to just head up there now? We can crash somewhere for the night and then go to the police station in the morning,"

Helga pursed her lips. "Yeah, I guess that's okay," She shrugged, standing up and stretching. "Shit," She said, looking out the window at the darkened landscape. Despite being relatively early in the evening, the clouds had made it considerably darker and the wind was whipping tree branches against the glass. "The rain's picking up,"

Their commute was a slow one with the stop and go traffic on the highway being enough to drive any person crazy.

"So uh," Helga said, breaking the mind-numbing silence after twenty minutes of snail-like travel. "What are you gonna do when all this is over?" She slouched down in her seat, picking at a hangnail on her thumb.

Arnold exhaled, trying to focus on the road despite the heavy rain. "I'm… not sure actually," He shrugged. "Hopefully they figure out what actually happened with Lila and where she is,"

"Oh yeah, 'cause you really need _that _in your life," Helga muttered sarcastically but the slight bitterness in her tone did not go unnoticed. Even after all these years, hearing about Lila still left a sour taste in Helga's mouth, especially knowing now everything she'd put him through.

"I mean with the trial," Arnold clarified pointedly, shooting her a look, then sighing. "I just can't believe how things have changed,"

Helga scoffed, "That's because you've had that football-head of yours in the clouds since we were kids, bucko," She rolled her eyes, propping an elbow up on her door where it met the window. "Always seeing the _good _in people and looking on the _bright _side," She said with a hint of disdain. "And look at where it gets you - married to a deranged country bumpkin who fakes her own death,"

"Okay, I get it," Arnold muttered, becoming annoyed. "You don't have to rub it in my face, you know,"

"Yeah, you're probably right," She retorted, clearly more amused by her comments than Arnold was. "_I've_ only been aware of Lila's phoniness since she came to Hillwood but no one ever listens to _Helga. _

"You know, you don't have a lot of room to talk, Helga," Arnold shot back faster than he could think not to.

Helga raised her eyebrows. "Oh really?" She turned in her seat and regarded him with interest. "Please, _do tell_,"

Arnold exhaled slowly, furrowing his brow as he stared at the brake lights in front of him. "I'm not doing this,"

"Oh-ho-ho, you're doing it, Football-head," She countered stubbornly. "Say what you wanna say,"

"Let's just get to Templeton and do what we need to do," Arnold said, trying to ignore her. "Okay?"

"I'm not gonna stop asking until you _tell me _what you think you know about me," She replied emphatically, her eyes challenging him though he couldn't take his eyes from the road.

"Let's just _drop it," _He said sternly, shooting a quick glance at her. "I'm trying to drive!"

"Pfft," Helga rolled her eyes, turning to look out the window. "Whatever,"

They were silent for almost the remainder of the drive. After getting through the highway traffic, the winding roads of the semi-rural community were a refreshing change of pace. It seemed they'd even beat the storm and the rain had lightened up a bit. Storm clouds still rolled past with lightning in the distance but the visibility had improved.

She hadn't intended to argue with Arnold. Her snarky nature had always tended to get her into situations she hadn't intended or expected. Still, his comment gnawed at her. What did he think of her that he would make the statement that she "doesn't have room to talk"? Their past relationship was obvious - she treated him like crap throughout their childhood and adolescence. The more insecure side of her wondered if his comment stemmed from the state in which he'd found her when he first came up to Concordia. She was having a hard enough time wrapping her mind around the rollercoaster of emotions she'd been on - she certainly didn't need him criticizing her for it.

Meanwhile, Arnold was trying to figure out how to get back onto the positive path they'd been on the past few days. He knew Helga could be temperamental sometimes but that didn't mean he could always be a saint - completely unaffected by her rudeness or lack of tact. Any reasonable person could only be patient to a point, right? He didn't want to fight with her and he'd actually been enjoying spending time with her, sans the dangerous overtone of it all. How was it that she could so easily bring out a broad range of emotions in him, taunting him with immature jabs and yet drawing him in with her intermittent vulnerability and magnetism?

As they got closer to the police station, Helga began to search for motels on her phone, finally finding a cheap option and directing Arnold to it in a monotonous voice.

The rain had picked back up by the time Arnold pulled into the motel parking lot and Helga wordlessly unbuckled her seatbelt.

"Hey," He said carefully, crossing his arms over the steering wheel and looking over at her with a sympathetic expression. "I'm sorry about earlier. I don't want to fight with you,"

Helga didn't respond, instead staring ahead at the brick wall of the building in front of them.

"Are you gonna say anything?" He pressed, waiting a beat before sighing in exasperation. "Okay, fine. I'm gonna get us a room,"

"Better make it two," Helga snapped as he stepped out of the car, settling back into her brooding when he slammed the car door shut.

She hated the way he made her feel vulnerable. She hadn't asked him to come back into her life - granted, she'd thought he was dead - but she found herself feeling consumed by this uncomfortable exposure brought on by her own speculation as to how he saw her. Was she grateful that he was there? Of course! He was _Arnold _and he was _alive. _Somehow knowing that he was still in this world gave her some resolve to work past her guilt and depression over the accident. And he was helping her, as he always did. But god, he could get under her skin, even if he wasn't trying. Maybe she was paranoid. The last thing she wanted was for him to think negatively of her but old habits died hard and if he had anything to criticize her for, she'd beat him to the punch. He'd seen her at her lowest point - in the hospital after an attempted suicide - and the thought of it now made her skin crawl and she wanted to vomit.

Arnold trotted back to the car, his hood over his head doing nothing to keep him from getting soaked in the rain. Helga ignored him initially when he knocked on the window, alerting her to his return as he went around to the back-seat to retrieve some of their research.

Taking a breath and promising herself she wouldn't let herself appear weak again, Helga stepped out of the car and was immediately met with balmy air and heavy rain that soaked her in seconds.

"There's a box on the other side," Arnold called through the car, trying to make himself heard over the pouring rain. "Can you grab it?"

Helga slammed her door shut and defiantly jogged away from the car, under the awning of the building. Noticing a minute later that she wasn't helping, Arnold growled in frustration and stood up, leaving the folders and boxes in the car.

"Seriously?" He exclaimed, his blonde hair soaked and matted to the sides of his face. "Helga, what is your problem?"

"I don't know, why don't you tell me?" She shot back, leaning casually on a support beam. "You seem to have me _all _figured out,"

Maybe it was the fact that they'd been cooped up in this car for over an hour in traffic. Maybe it was the fact that Arnold's socks were soaked and his drenched clothes felt like he was carrying an additional ten pounds. Maybe he really was just sick of her hot and cold mannerisms. Either way, his patience was running thin and she just kept pushing him.

"I'm not doing this," He said definitively as he stood by the car door, their eyes locked and challenging one another as they each waited for the other to back down.

"Oh yeah?" Helga confronted him, stomping out into the rain as she fell into the persona she'd mastered years ago. "'Cause I think you already started it so let me _finish _it," She said, closing the distance between them and glaring up at him. Their modest height difference did nothing to deter her bravado. "Yeah, I've been going through some _shit_ since high school but you better believe I'm still the same Helga Pataki and I'm not gonna take anyone else's shit. I don't need your fake sympathy or condescending remarks -"

"Whoa!" Arnold interjected indignantly but Helga continued, louder.

"Think what you want of me, _bucko," _She snarled, her eyes shooting daggers. "Maybe you think I'm some pathetic sap or a psycho bitch like your crazy ass wife but _I_ could care less what you think, you got that?"

The whole time, Arnold's expression alternated between incredulous and irate. At this point, both were fuming to the point of completely disregarding the rain and the thunder that boomed over them. Arnold shook his head for a second, trying to comprehend what was happening. "What the _hell, _Helga?" He exclaimed, rising to match her fire. "I don't even know how to respond to you when you're acting like this!"

"Oh, no?" She feigned concern. "Well, isn't that a shame? You had a lot to say earlier," She said, giving his chest an aggressive push.

"I didn't _say anything!" _He exclaimed frantically, his frustration bubbling over.

"Bullshit," Helga said scornfully. "You said enough,"

"About what, exactly?" Arnold countered. "What did I say?"

"You said enough!" Helga glared and Arnold about lost his mind.

"This is _ridiculous!" _ He exclaimed, tugging at his hair with his hands.

"Screw you, Arnold," Helga muttered coldly as her thick blonde hair matted to her face and raindrops slid down her neck.

"Oh my _god!" _Arnold's eyes widened and he shook his head in disbelief. "You wanna know what I was thinking before? Would it mean _that _much to you?!"

"I don't care what you think," Helga retorted and now it was Arnold's turn to scoff.

"_That_ is bullshit_," _He replied vehemently and Helga blinked, put slightly off balance by Arnold's uncharacteristic cursing but she remained steady. "You treated me like crap, Helga," He said, his eyes boring holes into her as he stepped closer to her. "Throughout almost the entire time I've known you. Even _despite _what happened up at FTi," He watched for her reaction and saw a flicker of hesitation in her eyes. "So yeah, without thinking about it, I made a comment about you not having room to talk when it comes to criticizing other people's bad decisions and behavior. Do you want me to apologize? I already did but I'll say it again, I'm _sorry. _Otherwise, I don't know what you want from me unless you _like _fighting like this?"

"I don't need your apologies," Helga said lamely, her tough facade beginning to crack.

"Then what do you want from me?!" Arnold exclaimed, more desperately. He hated confrontation and he hated being angry but somehow she had this ability to push him, both in good and bad ways. "And don't say 'nothing' because that's a load of crap and you know it," He narrowed his eyes and Helga's expression softened, if only for a second, as though he'd perfectly predicted what she was about to say. "What do you want?" He repeated a little gentler, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he struggled against his own frustration.

Helga fought to maintain eye contact. He was doing it again. This power he had over her to break down her walls and reveal the soft vulnerability within was unnerving at best. "Despite what you might think," She began steadily. "I don't need anyone's help. Or sympathy,"

"You're not answering my question!" Arnold said, unconsciously putting his hands on her shoulders and searching her face for answers as Helga blinked in surprise at the contact. "What do you want from me? I told you everything I can think of but somehow it's still not enough so tell me, what can I say that's going to make you realize everything is _fine?_"

Helga's skin burned under the pressure of Arnold's hands on her shoulders and she took a step back without realizing it, bumping into the side of the car. Arnold didn't seem to notice, however, as he was more fixated on resolving whatever it was that was happening between them. His green eyes were mesmerizing her and she couldn't help but stare as streams of rain drops glided down his face, only inches away from her own. She was suddenly aware of how close they were and the light pink hue of his lips, the heat between them unmistakable against the mild warmth of a stormy spring night. His eyes roamed her face, searching for answers that she didn't have or at least, didn't know how to provide.

In one swift motion, she rose to meet him, pressing her lips against his as the rain continued to pour around them. Arnold leaned back in surprise, breaking their contact for a moment as their eyes met. She pursed her lips, that uncomfortable vulnerability filling her once again, before something flashed in Arnold's eyes and he pulled her closer, his lips crashing down on hers with a raw, searching passion.

**[A/N: Oh boy lol it's been a while since I've written a AXH fight XD. Let me know what you think :) Toodles!]**


	26. Chapter 22

Helga had just begun to get wrapped up in the whirlwind of emotions making her dizzy and carefree and reckless when the heavy burden of reality came crashing down on her.

She abruptly broke from Arnold's embrace, slipping out from between him and the car and wiping her face despite the way the rain continued to stream down her forehead and over her cheeks.

"I-I-I'm sorry," She managed without looking at him, continuing to back up toward the building. "I don't know what I um…" She trailed off, furrowing her brow in confusion and disbelief.

"Hey, it's okay," Arnold said encouragingly, following her but she continued to step away until she was under the awning. To be honest, he hadn't known what had come over him either. It was as though something that had been building up in him for a long time finally broke free and his instincts led him to a place he hadn't anticipated. Even as the rain washed away the taste of her lips, he could still feel them as though their moment had never ended.

"Can you just let me inside?" Helga said desperately, almost pleading as she wrapped her arms around herself.

"Yeah, sure," Arnold murmured, not loud enough for her to hear as he locked the car up and led her to their motel room. He could get their stuff later. He started to speak as they made their way down the minimally lit concrete sidewalk, trailing wet footprints as they went. "Hey, um -"

"Don't," She cut him off. "Please don't,"

Arnold promptly quieted, pursing his lips as they stopped in front of the door and he gestured for her to enter first.

The room likely hadn't had a decor update since the 1980's, what with the wood paneling and loud wallpaper pattern. There were two double sized beds and a lounge chair that didn't look particularly comfortable. A small area in the back with a sink and mirror, partially separated by a wall, indicated where the toilet and shower were.

"Do you uh… did you want me to get a different room?" Arnold asked hesitantly. While he was confused and surprised, he couldn't say he was displeased with what had transpired. It felt like the appropriate culmination to this fiery connection they'd established long ago. If he was being completely honest with himself, he hadn't wanted it to stop. Sure, if he thought about it too long, it was kind of weird. He'd known her forever and they'd had such a tumultuous relationship. But at the same time, it felt right. Even throughout her bullying and their fighting during their formative years, she'd always had a strange way of complementing him that no one else ever did. The only valid reason he had to be uncomfortable with the situation was the precarious circumstance he was in with Lila and the police. Even if he was angry with her, even if she had betrayed him in an unconscionable way, he still felt the same guilt he'd felt when he'd slept with another woman and he and Helga had barely kissed for a minute.

"No," Helga's voice was soft but heavy, as though weighed down by all of the feelings she wasn't expressing. "Um, it's okay," She walked over to one of the beds, crawling up to the top and sitting over the covers as she dug her phone out of her jeans pocket, breathing a small sigh of relief to see that it had somehow avoided water damage thanks to the way her jacket had extended over it.

She knew he was curious and wondering and staring but she wanted the earth to swallow her up in that moment. How could something she'd wanted for so long, something she'd spent years of her life begging the heavens and stars for, feel so wrong? This was not for a lack of affection, as she still regarded Arnold with as much love and adoration as she ever had, nor was it for a lack of attraction because their chemistry had been explosive. Too much was happening at once, though. The situation with Rich still weighed on her mind and she felt uncomfortably exposed thinking about how close she had come to killing herself only recently. She still had a lot of healing to do and the experience felt like the wind had been knocked out of her as she fell into a pool, unable to breathe and unable to make sense of which way was up or down.

She still had a lot to figure out, about herself and about her relationships with other people. So much had changed in such as short amount of time that she needed time to process and make sense of it all, which, as she realized this, left her a bit flabbergasted. To think, Arnold had not only accepted her kiss but had reciprocated, quite fervently in fact, and she was having these conflicting feelings. A former version of herself would have been cursing and screaming at her to pursue more but she wasn't that person anymore. She was a little more mature, a lot more broken, and despite the way he made the hair on her arms stand up and her stomach turn itself in knots, she could only handle so much at one time.

. . . . . . . .

They'd spent the night in relatively awkward silence, choosing to go to sleep shortly after settling into their room. With the morning came a break in the storm clouds and as they reviewed old police reports at the Templeton station, bright sunny light was beaming through the old windows.

"This is all we've got on her file," A cop named Barry said as they stood at a desk, looking through a manila folder with reports, newspaper clippings, and an onslaught of gruesome photos. "Magda Lavine," He read aloud as Arnold and Helga studied the file. "This was before my time but says here they found her body about 6 hours after it happened," He pointed to a passage in the typed police report but both of them had a hard time tearing their eyes away from the grisly photo of a woman, all but completely unrecognizable. "A farmer saw smoke coming from the fire and thought it was some kids having a party," Barry continued.

"They cut out fat from her body," Helga said under her breath in a grave tone.

Arnold nodded, keeping his voice low enough that only she could hear. "Like the verse,"

"They found the remains of fat together with the head," Barry continued, their quiet conversation unbeknownst to him.

Once they'd gotten back into the groove of investigating, it'd been easier to put last night's incident out of their minds. Or at least, be able to ignore it for the time being. As they returned to the car, both feeling heavy and somber from the information they'd collected, they took a moment to sit in the car and breathe.

"It's all coming together," Arnold said, tilting his head back against the seat and staring up at the roof of the rental car.

"Yup," Helga murmured, her brow furrowed as she bit her lip. "This is so fucked up,"

Arnold wordlessly agreed, pausing for another moment before turning the keys in the ignition and pulling away from the police station.

"We still need to figure out who B.J. is," Helga said as they got back on the highway that would take them to Concordia. "And okay, so she saw a pattern and apparently knew who the killer was, otherwise, what else explains her disappearance? But what I don't get it how are all of these women connected,"

"Maybe figuring out who B.J. is will make that more obvious," Arnold surmised and Helga shrugged.

"I should update William," She said after a beat, picking her phone up from where she'd left it in the center console. "Hey William," Helga greeted amicably once William answered the phone. "How's it goin'? Is this a good time for an update?"

"Of course, Helga," The elderly man said warmly. "I appreciate you taking the time to call,"

"No sweat," Helga said nonchalantly, preparing to take the conversation in a much more grim direction. "So we've got a lead - Marguerite's journal and those names and numbers? It looks like they're matching up with bible verses and women who were murdered as far back as the 50's,"

"Hmm," William hummed thoughtfully, obviously impressed. "That would make sense; she was quite dutiful in her religious studies. Have you managed to determine the connection between them?"

"That's what we're still working on," Helga replied. "But we're kind of stuck on this one name - B.J. I don't suppose you know what that could stand for?"

"Unfortunately I don't," William said regretfully. "But you may want to get in contact with the detectives who worked on her original case. They may be of more help,"

"Okay," Helga replied. "Hey, um, did you find out anything else about... what happened with Rich?"

"I'm afraid not," William sighed wistfully. "That investigation is still ongoing as well. Please let me know if there is anything else I can do to assist you, Helga," He said graciously. "You've found more than I'd hoped for and my gratitude for that alone is more than words can express,"

"It's no problem," Helga said casually, despite the obvious dangers this investigation had brought about. As though she were picking up a gallon of milk from the gas station instead of risking her life to solve not only an unsolved missing persons case but potentially a string of murders. "Take it easy, William," She said, hanging up and turning to Arnold. "Let's stop at the local precinct on our way back to the cottage and see if they can tell us anything about B.J.,"

. . . . . . . .

They got back to the cottage in the late afternoon as the sun was just beginning to fall. The ground was still wet from the previous night's rain but the sky was clear as they stepped out of the car, exhausted both physically and mentally. Their trip to the Concordia police station hadn't turned up much in terms of information but they spoke to one of the detectives who had assisted with Marguerite's missing person case who'd promised to get in touch if they uncovered any information pertaining to someone named "B.J.". Other than that, the only thing they had to work with was the suspicion that the suspect they were looking for as likely old, given how far back some of these cases went and assuming they were all committed by the same person. And if that person was old and a member of the Bauer family, that reduced the potential suspects considerably.

"Good evening," A voice approaching from the woods by the cottage surprised Arnold and Helga as they approached the front door.

Arnold blinked. "Hi Henry," He said pleasantly. "What are you doing out here?"

"Oh," Henry chuckled, gesturing with the lead in his hand and the small terrier on the other end. "Taking Percy for his evening walk," He replied casually, then looked between the two of them. "You're still here, I see?"

"Yeah," Helga piped up, adjusting the folders in her arms. "There's still a lot of work to do,"

"I see," Henry nodded thoughtfully. "Well, best to leave you to it, hmm?" He said smugly then nodded as he started to walk away in the direction of his house.

"Did you hear the condescension in his voice?" Helga grumbled once they were inside the cottage. "Ugh, I can't wait to be done with this family. Stuck up twats with sticks up their asses…"

"Did you just use a British slang term?" Arnold chuckled, closing the front door behind him.

"So what if I did, Football-head?" She shot back mildly. "Anyway, we've got a lot of work to do so I'm gonna make some coffee and get to it. That alright with you?"

"By all means," Arnold said, putting his hands up defensively. "So we just need more info on B.J., right?"

"Right," Helga said from the kitchen counter as she dumped out the morning's brew. "And to figure out the connection between the five, and figure out who their killer was and the connection to Marguerite and what kind of role Rhonda's mom played in this whole mess and, you know, solve the whole case,"

Arnold rolled his eyes at her sarcasm. "How's that coffee coming along?"

"Bite me, Arnold," Helga deadpanned. "I'm freaking exhausted. Leave me alone,"

"Whatever you say," He chuckled, skimming the contents of the folders they'd brought in from the car. Arnold tried to focus more on the text of the newspaper articles and less on the haunting images of the women depicted, his mood shifting to a more notably somber one.

. . . . . . . .

Her feet hurt from walking and she'd broken down several times since leaving Stinky's, thinking about the horrible act she'd committed. While she saw it fit for her past attacker to meet a gruesome fate, thoughts of Stinky and his kind and humble demeanor plagued her. He hadn't deserved what she did to him but she'd had no choice. She was desperate and had to get out. She had a purpose and a goal and she couldn't let anything get in her way.

Between her guilt and her past and current pain, she wasn't sure if she had the strength to keep going but the thought of finally getting revenge on the man who raped her and hurt her mother. She'd been wandering the streets for days, using the last of her cash to stay in the cheapest motel she could find until that ran out and she wasn't sure where to turn.

She reclined against the metal bench of the bus stop, rubbing her sore feet and ignoring the judgmental stares of bus passengers as each bus came and dropped off a new group. She looked pretty rough - her auburn hair tousled and tangled, her clothes wrinkled, and dirt smudged on her hands and face. She was still angry and still vengeful but she was exhausted and running out of options.

An expensive black luxury car pulled up to the bus stop and Lila's heart fluttered with simultaneous anxiety and relief as a familiar woman stepped out of the backseat.

"Oh Lila," Brooke said gently, rushing over to her on the bench. "Dear, I've been so worried. Come on, let's get you cleaned up," She said, ushering Lila into the car and taking off.


	27. Chapter 23

**[A/N: Super short chapter but I promise to make up for it later! Let me know what you think!]**

Arnold and Helga woke up late the following morning after spending the better part of the night scouring every piece of evidence they had for some indication as to who B.J. was. A loud, incessant knocking at the front door, however, startled them from their much needed slumber.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" Helga grumbled irritably as she trudged up to the door in a pair of sweatpants and a tank top, peering through the window to see the the cop who'd assisted them at the local precinct yesterday waiting impatiently. He was a thin man with a close blonde buzzcut and lines in his face from years of seeing things he wished he could forget.

"Lenny?" She said, recalling the name he'd asked them to call him as she opened the door.

"I think I may have found what you're looking for," Lenny said excitedly as he stepped over the threshold.

"Well, good morning to you, too," Helga said sarcastically as she closed the door and Arnold came out into the living room, his blonde hair unruly from sleep and dark circles under his eyes.

"'B.J.' was the initials, right?" The detective verified, barely giving Helga or Arnold the chance to respond. "Check this out," He said, handing a police report to her and as Helga skimmed its contents, it all started to make sense. "Rebecca Jacobbson," Lenny said, pointing to the name on the page. "Look at the nickname - 'Bea',"

"B.J.," Arnold breathed, looking over Helga's shoulder at the report.

"I didn't make the connection at first but it fits," Lenny continued. "They found her body out near the bridge. She had claimed to be a medium, you know, talkin' to ghosts and spirits and stuff like that. Even had her own little side business on the mainland. But you wanna know the crazy part?" Helga and Arnold looked up at the man whose energy and pace were more than either of them were prepared for this morning. "She was working as a secretary for the Bauers when she died,"

Helga's eyes widened, suddenly completely awake. "Shit,"

. . . . . . . .

_**Flashback**_

"_I have to get out of here," A young woman with dark, soft locks and a gentle face said as she dug through her dresser drawers. "I thought it was just me but… I'm really scared, Brooke"_

_Brooke watched her frantic friend as she threw various articles of clothing into an open suitcase beside her. "But where will you go? What are you gonna do?" The raven-haired beauty asked, her eyebrows stitched together with concern as she watched helplessly. _

"_I don't know," Marguerite replied hastily. "I don't know… but I think he knows I figured it out. I-I can't stay here," She let her voice trail off as she shoved a final shirt into her suitcase and forced it closed. _

_Brooke pursed her lips. "I'm so sorry, Maggie," She said, her voice quiet and thin, so unlike her usual character but in the privacy of these four walls, she and her best friend could be unwaveringly honest. "I just… I don't know what to do. I wish I could have done more to protect you..."_

"_There's nothing you could've done, Brooke," Marguerite turned to her, making eye contact. "I just… I need you to cover for me. You can't let anyone know that I left or that you know anything about _any _of this," She insisted. "I don't know where I'm going yet but that's probably a good thing; the less you know the better. I don't want them to hurt you, too…"_

_Brooke fought back the tears that threatened to flood her eyes. "When will I ever see you again?"_

"_Don't worry," Marguerite said confidently, gathering her now-zipped suitcase. It was a small size but stuffed with as much as she could bear. "When I'm safe, when I find somewhere to go, I'll let you know I'm okay. But you understand, I need to go?"_

"_Of course I do," Brooke's voice faltered. "I just hate it. I can't believe it,"_

"_I know," Marguerite said distantly. "But if I don't leave now, I'll probably end up like the others…"_

_Brooke held her breath in an attempt to steady herself, a trick she'd picked up after being in the spotlight with other socialite teens and their families. _

"_I'll miss you," She said firmly, her eyes being the only thing that betrayed the stoic expression she'd put on. _

_Marguerite's face softened, "Me too," _She lifted her gaze to meet Brooke's. "Stay safe. Please,"

_. . . . . . . . _

"_'A man or woman who is a medium or spiritist among you must be put to death. You are to stone them; their blood will be on their own heads.'_" Arnold re-read the passage for what felt like the millionth time.

"I get it, Football-head," Helga said, getting frustrated as they mulled over the information Lenny had brought that morning. "Repeating it over and over isn't doing anything. It fits, okay?"

Arnold stood leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossing over his chest and deep in thought while Helga sat at the table, periodically sipping from her coffee mug as she flipped through the report Lenny had left.

"But what's the _connection?" _Arnold asked, more to himself than to her as he processed everything they'd learned so far. "What is it about these five women and these verses that Marguerite was paying attention to?"

"Aside from the fact they were murdered _according _to those verses?" Helga said tersely.

"Sure," Arnold shrugged. "But even - wait a minute…"

"What?" Helga turned to look at him and his expression had changed dramatically. She could see the gears turning in his head. "_What?"_

Arnold walked toward the table, fervently flipping through the newspaper articles and reports they'd collected. "These names, Helga," He said, pointing to each woman's name on their respective articles. "They're all Jewish names or at least, somehow Biblical, aren't they?"

"How am I supposed to know?" Helga retorted. "Who do I look like, Mary Magdalene?" She paused, realization dawning on her face. "Shit… Magda…"

"Exactly," Arnold said with nervous energy. "And Sara, Liv _Igielski… _Helga, her family was made up of a bunch of Nazis,"

"Holy shit," Helga breathed, shaking her head as she pieced everything together. "Holy _shit, _Arnold!" She slammed a hand down on the table. "Why didn't we figure this out before?"

"I don't know," Arnold replied. "But the important thing is we know it now,"

"Arnold…" Helga said slowly. "There's only one Bauer Nazi that's still alive and it's Maxwell,"

"He must be the one who did it…" Arnold surmised. "Wow…"

"There's only one way to be sure," Helga said, standing up as Arnold's eyes followed her. "If he actually did all of these, there's gotta be something connecting him to the locations, right? All these women were murdered in different places so there have to be business logs, receipts, invoices, _some _kind of documentation that would place him in those areas around the dates of the murders,"

"That makes sense," Arnold nodded, impressed. "But how do we get them? Where would they even be?"

"I'm sure that's something William could help with," Helga said. "Or even Ronald, actually. I'll make a call," She began to dig her phone out of her pocket. "Actually…"

Arnold waited for her to go on but when she didn't right away, he pressed. "Actually _what?_"

"He could be out hunting with Doug right now," Helga said thoughtfully and Arnold could already sense the direction she was moving in. "I remember Rich's aunt mentioning that Doug and Maxwell would go out hunting around this time usually,"

"Helga, I know what you're thinking and it's too dangerous," Arnold cautioned.

"Football-head," She scoffed. "This whole damn situation is dangerous. If it makes you feel better, _I'll _go check out Maxwell's place and _you _can look for receipts with Ronald,"

"That doesn't make me feel better," Arnold deadpanned. "What if he were to come home while you're inside the house?"

"Then I'll hide or something," Helga said. "Believe it or not, Football-head, I've been in situations where I almost got caught being somewhere I wasn't supposed to be before and no one ever figured it out," She said cryptically, alluding to the myriad of times she'd snuck into his house to retrieve something that could've revealed her secret affection for him. "I'll be fine. I'm stealthy - like a ninja,"

Arnold rolled his eyes. "Fine," He said begrudgingly, knowing that once Helga's mind was made up about something, it was next to impossible to change it. "But keep your phone on and text me if anything happens,"

"Okay, _Mom_," Helga rolled her eyes dismissively as she searched for William's number in her phone.

. . . . . . . .

_**Flashback**_

"_I think he knows where I am, Brooke," Marguerite said as the two young women sat in the quaint country farmhouse living room. A small red-headed child was playing with dolls in the corner, completely unaware of the adults' tense conversation._

"_How can you be sure?" Brooke replied, sipping from the glass of iced tea Marguerite had given her. "It's been years, Maggie,"_

"_I don't know…" Marguerite said warily. "I don't know how to explain it but sometimes I just… feel like someone's following me or like I'm being watched,"_

"_And?" Brooke pressed. "Is anyone ever there?"_

"_I told you, I don't know," Marguerite sighed. "I thought I could escape,"_

"_And you did," Brooke said adamantly, leaning forward and putting a reassuring hand on her best friend's forearm. "That was nearly a decade ago and you're safe. You have this idyllic little… country house and a husband that loves you and that adorable little girl over there… You survived, Maggie, and you and I found each other again… Things are okay,"_

_Marguerite sighed, reclining back in the floral print armchair. "You're right,"_

"_Of course I am," Brooke said proudly, smirking. "And keeping in line with that mindset, you should trust me when I say that as quaint and humble as…" She looked around the room. "All of this is, I'm afraid you're in need of some redecorating, my dear," She smiled and Marguerite chuckled._

"_I was waiting for you to comment on the 'aesthetics' of this place," She said, shaking her head with a good-natured expression. _

"_Naturally, darling," Brooke winked. _


End file.
